


The Captain and The Woman

by RosieFreebatch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Irene Adler, BAMF John Watson, BAMF Molly Hooper, BDSM, Captain John Watson, Eventual Johnlock, F/F, F/M, Irene Adler Ships Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Jealous Sherlock, John Watson is Perfect, John Watson is a Saint, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Mild Smut, Murder Mystery, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Past Mary Morstan/John Watson, Pining Sherlock, Revenge, Serial Killers, Sex, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock in Love, Slow Burn, john is a good dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2018-11-07 18:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieFreebatch/pseuds/RosieFreebatch
Summary: John Watson is an ex-Army captain, young widower, and single father looking to start anew with his daughter in London. After he's rejected as a flatmate by Sherlock Holmes, he finds himself living in a trailer in a parking lot, grateful to have a roof over his head. Then a chance encounter with Irene Adler changes his life in more ways than one.Together, they become The Captain and The Woman,  dominator and dominatrix, and are soon making waves in London's sex industry.And when Sherlock meets John again, he realizes he's made a dreadful mistake in rejecting him.Then a serial killer begins targeting the city's sex workers, and Sherlock is determined to protect John, whom he's falling in love with. But John is happy in his new life and wants nothing to do with him. He'll soon learn he needs to trust him to stay alive...It's love, murder, and bondage - Sherlock style.





	1. Back to London

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came into my head writing the last chapter of my May 2017 31 Days of Porn Challenge. 
> 
> There was a lot the show could have done with John and Irene, and him being reduced to a jealous man while Irene acted like an idiot chasing after Sherlock was not my favorite part of A Scandal in Belgravia. He shot killed a serial killer cabbie in the very first episode for crying out loud! And Steven Moffat, god bless him, is not the best when it comes to writing women, even though Irene Adler was not his creation. The show's version of her had her coming off as a low-rent River Song...and I really do not like River. (Sorry Doctor Who fans! My favorite Modern Who lady will always be Donna Noble, with Bill Potts a close second). 
> 
> So this is a fix-it story for me, and an attempt to show John and Irene in a different light and as friends and co-workers. I hope you give it a chance and have fun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns and his adventure begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated!

_July 2005_

John had missed London.

He'd left the city at nineteen to enlist in the Army. The military would pay for his schooling and he wanted to be a doctor. He figured this would be the best way to achieve his goal.

Five years later, he was shot while attending to a wounded soldier in Afghanistan and was honorably discharged. Feeling useless and hopeless, he found himself in Scotland, staying with cousins and trying to find work. He eventually landed a job as a GP in a clinic not too far from his house. It was far from the dream he'd created for himself, but it was work and his co-workers and patients were lovely.

After five months of working at the clinic, his life changed again, but this time for the better. He met someone.

Mary Rosamund Morstan was a pretty nursing student with wavy blonde hair, doe eyes, and a sharp sense of humor. She'd brought her mother in, who came down with a nasty sore throat that John diagnosed as strep. He and Mary instantly connected and within weeks, they were steadily dating.

A year later, the two were married in a small but quaint ceremony at the local chapel. John continued to work at the clinic and Mary got a job at a rest home. The two settled into married life and things were great. Then two years later, Mary gave birth to Evelyn Rose Watson, Evie for short. Evie was an adorable little girl with her parents blond hair and her father's dark blue eyes. 

A few weeks after John's twenty-ninth birthday in September, Mary was on her way to work. She walked, like she always did, since the rest home was not far from their home. John had a rare day off and was caring for Evie.

Thirty-minutes later, John got the call from the hospital. Mary had been hit by a car. The driver had suffered a heart attack and lost control of the vehicle.

John handed off Evie to a neighbor and rushed to the hospital to learn Mary was taken into surgery. The driver had died on the scene. 

He spent an agonizing four hours at the hospital waiting for news on his wife. When the surgeon came out, his face pale and grim, John knew she was gone.

Mary had suffered massive internal injuries that were too severe for the surgeons to try and repair. John didn't remember anything after the announcement she'd died.

There was a funeral, a reception with friends and family expressing sympathy, and John was left alone to pick up the pieces.

He stayed in Scotland for another two years before deciding it was time to return to London. He needed to make a fresh start with his daughter.

So he quit his job, sold the house, and packed up and went back to the city he so loved.

*****

Finding housing in London was harder than John expected. Most of the money from the sale of his house back in Scotland went into a college fund for Evie, and he did have some savings, but he knew he needed to find a job and a place to live. He wasn't going to be on the streets with a toddler.

John checked himself and Evie into a hotel and began to do online job searches. He placed Evie in daycare while he went on interviews, but nothing panned out. After a few weeks, he was beginning to feel depressed. Wasn't there someone in the city who wanted him?

*****

John was sitting on a bench at Regent's Park, hot cup of tea in his hand, Evie napping in her pram, when he ran into an old school friend, Mike Stamford. Mike told him an acquaintance of his was looking for a flatmate and that perhaps John would be perfect. He wasn't so sure.

"Who'd want me, a widower with a toddler, for a flatmate?"

*****

Later that afternoon at St. Bart's, Mike introduced John to Sherlock Holmes. John was intimidated a bit by his height (as well as his unique beauty). 

"I hear you're looking for a flatmate," John had said, a little timidly.

Sherlock looked John up and down like he was on display at a store. Then his attentions turned to Evie, who was still asleep. He frowned and pursed his lips. "No."

"I beg your pardon?" John said, a little surprised. He was expecting to be rejected, but not so coldly.

"I don't do widowers with children. My flat contains very important scientific experiments. I can't have a young child around who will just get in the way and possibly damage my equipment," Sherlock haughtily explained.

"How did you know I was a widower?" John asked, forgetting the taller man's rudeness.

"Simple. You're wearing your wedding band on a chain around your neck. If you were divorced you wouldn't be doing that. Just a simple observation." Sherlock said.

"Well, that's quite brilliant. But won't you give Evie and I a chance?" John gazed at Sherlock with pleading eyes.

Sherlock was unmoved. "Absolutely not. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my pancreas." And with that, he turned his back to John and Mike and stalked off.

"Pay it no mind, he's always like that," Mike said apologetically.

"No wonder he can't get a flatmate with his attitude. Oh well, I wouldn't want Evie to be around someone so cold and clinical anyway." John smiled ruefully at Mike. "I better get back to the hotel to try and find somewhere else to live. I have to be out by the end of the week."

*****

A month passed, and John and Evie were now living in an old double wide trailer in the back parking lot of a privately owned business that did blood tests, along with drug and urine screens for job applicants. The owner had given John a job of registering patients. When he learned he was homeless and had a little girl, he allowed him to stay in the trailer for a very small amount of rent. John was grateful. The trailer had a living room, nice-sized kitchen, a bathroom and one half-bath, and two bedrooms. He was making due, and his job wasn't that bad if repetitive. At least he was making money to put in the bank and he had no crazy commute to and from work. He wasn't being a doctor, but it could be worse. He could be out on the streets, never knowing if the city would allow him to survive day to day. And he was able to put Evie in daycare while he worked.

John was not quite ready to date yet, but he didn't want to be stuck at home all the time, so one Saturday night, he went out to a pub for a pint and chips. His employer's wife had agreed to watch Evie for the evening. 

John had a few beers and a plate of chips and when it hit ten o'clock, he decided to call it a night. He was on his way to the tube station when he passed in front of a ritzy-looking restaurant. The sign read Belgravia's.

Off to the side of the building, he spotted two women arguing with a man. One of the women was gorgeous, with long dark hair pulled up in an elaborate bun. She wore a black lace minidress, and black stiletto heels. The other woman next to her had her long brunette hair down. She was a bit more plain looking, but still very attractive, and wore a fitted white sheath dress and matching short sleeved bolero jacket, with red kitten heel pumps.

The man was about John's height, but much stockier in build. He had a strawberry blond crewcut, and John could tell he was furious. Maybe it was a lover's quarrel, he thought to himself.

Suddenly the man raised his hand, making a fist. The two women cowered, and John went into action. He dashed towards the three. "Hey! Leave those women alone!" he yelled.

The man lowered his arm and glared at John with angry brown eyes. "Mind your own business mate!" he spat.

John glared back. "Not when you're about to assault a lady. Now get lost."

The other man snorted. "These two are no ladies. They're whores. I pay them for good times if you know what I mean, and now they decide they don't want me around anymore, that my money's no good."

"It's not the money that's bad Carl, it's you. I'm the one that doles out the pain, not the clients. If you don't like it, take your business somewhere else," the woman in black retorted.

"You heard the lady. Leave," John ordered steely.

"And I thought I told you to mind your own business." The man moved menacingly towards John.

John was ready. He knew how to defend himself against brutes; his own father was one, especially when drunk. 

Carl leered menacingly at John and raised his hand again. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

John just smiled and grabbed his arm and with one hard yank, pulled it behind his back, holding him steadily in place against his chest. "Oww!" he cried. "You broke my arm!"

"Just a sprain. Trust me, I'm a doctor," John replied dryly, not breaking his grip. 

The two women stood there in astonishment, and a small crowd began to form to watch the action.

"Have you had enough?" John asked the struggling man.

Carl just grunted. John placed two fingers on Carl's neck and pressed deeply. Carl moaned and sunk down to his knees, and John released him. "I guess next time you'll learn to hold your temper, yeah?"

Carl nodded, grimacing in pain.

A copper came up towards John. "What happened?"

Before John could answer, the two women stepped forward. "This man protected us from a very nasty customer," the woman in white said appreciatively. He's been harassing us for weeks."

The officer looked down at the man writhing on the ground. "Oh yes. Carl Powers. A thug and a brute. Likes to show off his muscle. He's spent many a time in a cell." He looked back at John. "So, was it like the lady said?"

John nodded. "It appears to have been a business dispute. He was going to strike these ladies with his fist if I hadn't intervened."

"That so?" the officer asked Carl.

"It was just a misunderstanding that's all," he replied through gritted teeth.

The officer helped Carl to a standing position. "Well, you can tell your story down at the station. You're wanted for an assault over at Angelo's restaurant earlier tonight, I got the call. When are you gonna learn Powers?"

He took Carl away, and the crowd started to disperse. John smiled at the two women. "I doubt he'll be bothering you. Well, I'd better get to home, I need to pick up my daughter from the sitter. Have a nice evening."

He started to leave, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Wait," the woman in black said.

John turned around. "Yes?"

Molly and I would like to thank you for coming to our aid. That cop was right, Carl Powers is a bad man."

"And you were really doing business with him?" John asked.

"Yes. You see, Molly and I are---well...let me give you this." She reached into her purse and pulled out a card. 

John perused the card. His eyes widened when he read the words

**Leather and Lace**

**Your Mistresses of Bondage and Domination**

He glanced up. "You two are dominatrixes?"

"Yes," the woman announced proudly. "I'm Irene Adler, and this is Molly Hooper, my partner, both in business and and in pleasure." Molly grinned and nodded at John.

"Uh, I don't think I'd be interested in seeking your services," John said sheepishly.

"Oh no, no, no, I don't want you as a customer Mr..."

"John. John Watson." He chuckled. "Appropriate name isn't it?"

Irene laughed softly. "It is. Anyway, like I said, I don't want you as a customer. I'd like to offer you a job."

"As a bodyguard?"

Irene laughed again and Molly smiled. "That would make sense, seeing how you handed Powers so well." Irene's pretty face turned serious. "No, I'm proposing that you join our little business, doing what Molly and I do."

John was floored, and his mouth dropped open. "You're not serious. You want me to be a...dominatrix?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't have a posting schedule for this one as I'm also still working on my other Johnlock fic, Sleepwalk. I'm now doing a four day ten hour workweek with Fridays off during the summer which should free up some writing time.


	2. Enter The Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes Irene and Molly up on their proposition, and he begins to craft his new identity as a dominator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter before we get into the nitty gritty.

John had picked up Evie from the sitter and went back to his trailer. He put his sleeping daughter in her crib and minutes later, was sitting at his kitchen table, perusing the business card Irene Adler had given him. She told him to think about her offer and call her when he was ready to talk. 

The money would be good, much more than what he made now. He would be able to rent a decent flat in town and provide for his daughter. 

He didn't have a problem with non-sexual domination. He was used to ordering people around as an Army captain. But there was a big difference between being dominant towards a group of military men and women and being dominant towards rich civilians who were paying big bucks to be dominated and degraded. Not to mention he probably would be expected to use a whip or a riding crop. 

If he did agree to work for Irene and Molly, he could use his former military experience as part of his job. Instead of leather, he could wear his old Army uniform and dog tags. He knew there was a whole subculture of those that had military kinks and got off on people in uniform. He could use it to his advantage, and bypass the whole black leather and studs getup. He wasn't too fond of the look, and he'd come off as a poor man's Rob Halford from Judas Priest. 

He knew some would be appalled at him becoming a sex worker, but he wouldn't actually have to have sex with his clients. He could keep it hands off, if that was allowed. Besides, it wasn't anyone's business how he chose to make his money, as long as no one got murdered or injured. He had to do this. It wasn't about the titilation, it was about the money, and making sure Evie was taken care of. She was his top priority.

He took out his cell phone and dialed the number on the card. Irene answered after two rings. "Leather and Lace, would you like to make an appointment?"

"Hello Ms. Adler. This is John Watson."

"Oh John, I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon!"

"Well, I thought about your offer and I've decided to come work for you."

"Wonderful!" Irene exclaimed happily. "When can you meet with Molly and I?"

"Tomorrow evening, after I get off work. Is four-thirty okay?"

"Yes John, that works. Is Belgravia's fine?"

"Sure." Although John silently mused a meal there would cost as much as a day of nursery for Evie.

"Great! We'll see you then."

John and Irene hung up, and John leaned back in his chair wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into. But he'd made his choice. He was never one to sit back and let life boringly go by. He'd missed the danger and adrenaline of combat, and he needed excitement back in his life.

*****

John entered the restaurant, approaching the hostess. She eyed him with a suspicious look even though he was wearing a dress shirt, tie, and navy slacks. His soon-to-be ex employer insisted his workers look professional. He ignored her expression. "Hello, I'm John Watson. I'm meeting Irene Adler and Molly Hooper."

The woman's face lit up and she smiled. "Oh yes, they're already here. Please follow me Mr. Watson."

John held back a chuckle at the hostess' personality change as she led him to a back corner of the restaurant. Sitting at a round table next to a large window was Irene and Molly. John was glad he wasn't wearing jeans and a jumper. Both women were dressed impeccably. Irene had on a sleeveless red maxi dress with a low V-neckline, accentuated by a pearl necklace with a diamond clasp, her dark hair down this time but coiffed stylishly. Molly wore a navy blue sleeveless knee length sheath dress with a sapphire and diamond choker around her slim neck, and her hair was pulled up into a loose, but fancy bun. 

"John, nice to see you again," Irene greeted him.

"Thank you." John sat down. He glanced around the dining room. "I've never been here before. It's very nice."

"Belgravia's is Irene's favorite restaurant," Molly explained. "The owner is a longtime client."

"Ahh," John said knowingly.

A waiter came by to take John's drink order, and he asked for a club soda with lime. He wanted to stay sober and focused for this meeting.

"Your meal is on the house by the way. Compliments of the owner," Irene said with a grin.

"Really? Well, tell him thank you." John was never one to turn down a free meal, especially an expensive one. "What's good here?"

"Everything is excellent, but I'm partial to the stuffed flounder with crab Imperial," Molly replied, before taking a sip of her wine.

The waiter returned with John's drink and took their orders. John chose Molly's recommendation, and Irene ordered veal saltimbocca. 

"So John, I'm assuming you'd like to get right down to business regarding your job offer," Irene began.

John nodded. "I'm really intrigued by the entire prospect. To be honest, money is the main reason---I have a daughter to support---and although I like the people I work with now, I need something less predictable, more exciting."

Irene smiled. "I thought so. Not many would confront someone like you did last night. That's why you'd be perfect for this line of work."

Molly spoke up. "To be honest John, Irene and I have unfortunately stumbled into some difficulty regarding our business. The sex industry is a competitive one and we need to stay fresh and exciting to keep clients coming, pardon the pun. It was suggested to us by a mutual acquaintance that we could spice things up by hiring a man. There is an untapped clientele out there who would feel more comfortable being dominated by a male. You coming on board will inject the energy Leather and Lace needs to stay stable."

"And you'll also bring in the clients with a military kink. I can tell you served," Irene added.

John was taken aback. "How did you know I served?"

Irene chuckled. "It's your haircut. It screams military. Plus the way you ordered Powers to stop. You're used to unruly subordinates."

John chuckled and shook his head. "You know, you're not the first to make such keen observations about me, although the former experience wasn't as pleasant."

A spark of recognition crossed Irene's face. "Ah, let me guess...the infamous Sherlock Holmes."

John nodded. "Yes, how did you know? He's not a client is he?"

Irene laughed. "Goodness no. I hired him two years ago. I was being blackmailed by a former client but I didn't know which one. One of my other clients told me to contact Sherlock, who does consulting investigation on the side, and he discovered who the blackmailer was. We spent some time together after the case was solved---nothing sexual. Mostly dinners and trying to figure out whose mind was more brilliant. There couldn't have been anything between us anyway. I like women and he likes men." She beamed at Molly. "Sherlock and I still text from time to time, he tells me about his cases."

John huffed. "Well, he didn't like me, but not in that way. A friend of mine introduced me to him as he's looking for a flatmate. He rejected me because of my daughter."

"He's an idiot then. He's having a difficult time trying to find one because no one wants to live with him. His mind is quite extraordinary, but his personality leaves something to be desired for, despite being so drop-dead gorgeous. He should take the first available person willing to flatshare." 

"Well, if this job is successful I won't have to worry about finding a roommate. When do I start?" John asked, growing eager, his blue eyes sparkling.

"As soon as possible. You'll need to come up with an identity, a role you'll feel comfortable with when you interact with clients," Irene answered.

"I already have my identity. "You said it yourself, I can bring in those with a military kink." 

John grinned widely at the two women. "Ladies, enter The Captain."


	3. Making of The Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We do a little time jump so we can see John begin to get ready to officially become "The Captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update! Life's been a little crazy but this weekend allowed me to do some work on my two WIP's. It's a short chapter, next one will be a little longer.

John was bustling with amusement as he entered the office of the photo studio. Irene and Molly had booked him an appointment with a high-class photographer to take some publicity shots for the Leather and Lace website. Several weeks after he'd agreed to join their business, the two had started to spread the word to their clients they hired a male dominator who used to be an Army captain, and if they or anyone they knew was interested in sessions, he'd soon be available to start booking online.

John had brought his old uniform, as well as an olive-green vest and a pair of camouflage trousers he'd purchased at Primark for the photo shoot. He'd also made sure to wear his dog tags, and he was hitting the gym when time allowed to buff up his physique, which was still pretty fit thanks to some healthier eating and running after a toddler. Evie was an energetic little thing, always on the go, but John relished the time he spent with his daughter. It was all he had left of Mary.

An attractive woman with long brown hair sat at the receptionist desk. She looked up and smiled brightly at John. "Hello, how may I help you?"

John mentally read the nameplate that sat in the middle of the desk: Sarah Sawyer, Administrative Assistant. "Hello, my name is John Watson. I have a one-thirty appointment with Victor Trevor."

Sarah glanced at her large flat screen computer monitor. "Oh yes. Have a seat, and I'll let Vic know you're here." She picked up the phone receiver to call him.

John sat down in a white plush armchair, gazing around the waiting room. There were blown-up photos of good-looking men and women hung on the walls, along with photos of various nature scenes and landscapes. Whoever this Victor Trevor was, he was very talented.

A few minutes later, an extremely good-looking man, tall and thin, with light brown hair and bright wide green eyes walked out of a door behind the desk. He had on a tight white short-sleeved polo shirt and khaki cargo trousers. "Mr. Watson?"

John stood up. "Yes, hello."

The man smiled. "Hi, I'm Vic. Nice to meet you."

John smiled back. "Nice to meet you too." He held out his hand and Vic shook it firmly. "Ready to begin?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." John followed him back through the door which led to his studio. It was a large loft-style space, with a variety of backdrops and off to the side, a wall with tons of built-in shelves that held a large number of props. 

"So, I've heard great things about you from Irene and Molly. They tell me you're a former Army captain and a doctor. Very impressive," Victor purred as he led John to a space where a solid black curtain hung from ceiling to floor.

"Thank you."

"I have to admit it's very interesting, having a military veteran join the line of work Irene and Molly do. I've never heard of a male dominator before. You're unique."

"Well to be honest, I'm in it for the money. I have a two year-old daughter to support as well as myself, and unfortunately being a doctor these days doesn't mean anything unless you specialize,"  John replied matter-of-fact.

"There's no shame in that. You have to do what you have to do to survive. It was rough those first years as a photographer. I started out making beans at a newspaper, wondering if I'd have enough money to make rent and buy groceries." 

Victor began to set up his camera, choosing lenses. "But eventually, people started taking notice of my pictures and booking me for bigger shoots which meant bigger paychecks. Now here I am, with my own business. I wouldn't change those lean years for anything." 

He turned to John. "What I'd like to do is just get some full body shots of you. We'll be using just this black backdrop so the focus is on your appearance. Irene told me that you'll be wearing your Army uniform and dog tags. I'd also like a shirtless shot of you in just your camos and dog tags so the clients can really see what they're getting."

"It's a good thing I've been going to the gym then," John mused.

*****

"Oh John, these pictures are fantastic!" Molly praised as she, Irene, and John were sitting inside the living room of Irene and Molly's luxurious flat. 

"And very sexy," Irene added silkily. "My favorite of course is you bare chested wearing your dog tag and camouflage pants."

He had to admit, he looked pretty damn good. His chest and arms were toned but not so muscular and bulked up like a bodybuilder. He had his hands folded behind his back and he stood ramrod straight - a classic military pose. He wasn't smiling but he didn't look angry either. He looked like he was ready to give an order to his unit.

There was also another picture of John shirtless with the button of his trousers undone, and he was holding a riding crop with the flat end pointed directly at the open button. His lips were slightly parted, his side turned just enough to see the tattoo on his shoulder where the bullet had pierced it. He had the scar covered up with the drawing of an exploding bullet hole, with the words ARMY STRONG in black lettering underneath. That was his favorite photo.

In the end, the two shirtless pics were the one to be shown on the website. John had also been given a brand spanking new cell phone, a Galaxy S8 to use for speaking with clients and managing appointments. He couldn't wait to start playing it with it and customizing it. 

"Our website guru, Billy, will be adding your pictures to the website. You'll also need an email to connect with your clients, and you can pick your name," Molly explained.

 John decided his business email would be captainjohn@leatherandlace.com.uk. It wasn't overtly sexy, and it would be easy for clients to remember.

The meeting ended with a nice dinner at Angelo's restaurant, and a promise from Irene and Molly that John's page and contact information would be ready on the website by the end of the day tomorrow.

John picked up his daughter from his boss' wife, went back to his trailer, and while Evie was asleep, he spent most of the night setting up his new phone, eagerly anticipating the next phase of his new life and identity as The Captain.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mystrade appears in the next chapter to knock some sense into Sherlock.


	4. In Demand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's popular and Sherlock's an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild BDSM in this chapter between two consenting adults (not Sherlock and John). The consulting drama queen hasn't earned it yet!

"Hello Warren this is John. You're requesting a ninety-minute session, and you're available anytime this week after four-thirty? Let me check my calendar and see if I have any time...oh yes, I have this Thursday at five. You would be my last client of the evening. Is there anything special you'd like? A bullhorn? That won't be a problem. I'll see you then. Good afternoon Warren, I'm looking forward to our time together."

John hung up the phone and entered his latest appointment into his phone. In the few weeks since he'd become available for sessions at Leather and Lace, he found himself with an impressive number of clients waiting in the wings. The majority of them were wealthy single gay or bisexual men ranging in age from 30-65. He'd even booked a married couple in their twenties. It appeared March was shaping up to be a very productive month. 

John had also been flat-searching, and located a nice little place thanks to his former employer at the lab. They'd been sad to see him go, but they knew he was looking for a better paying job and a home that wasn't in a parking lot. John didn't tell them what his new job really was. He'd told a white lie and said it was "home care." He would be moving into his new flat by the end of the week. It was located on Baker Street, a small two-bedroom on the first floor. 

John finished entering his appointments, and left to pick up Evie from daycare. From there, it would be a quick trip to Tesco's, and back to the trailer, where he would be cleaning it up and making sure it looked the same as the day he moved in. It would soon be home for another tenant---a single mother with a five year-old boy who ironically, was John's replacement at the lab.

Things were finally looking up for John, and he couldn't be happier. 

*****

Speaking of Baker Street, a very sullen and sulking Sherlock Holmes was lying on the couch inside his flat at 221 B Baker Street, wrapped up like a burrito in nothing but a white sheet, his dark curls wildly sticking out every which way, a deep frown and a huge pout on his Cupid's bow lips.

"Sherlock, this appalling behavior cannnot continue," a cool and authoritative voice rang out from beside him. It was his older brother, Mycroft, sitting cross-legged in the armchair beside him, elegant in a black three piece suit and white shirt. "You're thirty-one years old and still act like you're seventeen. Time for you to grow up brother."

"Stuff it fatso," Sherlock spat, sliding down so his long feet hung off the edge.

Mycroft sighed loudly and shook his head. How could he get his stubborn younger sibling to realize a drug-fueled orgy with twin brothers was not healthy behavior?

"Sherlock," another male voice, a little rougher and not as posh as Mycroft's, spoke out. "Listen to Mycroft just this once. If you continue doing this crap, not only will he throw your sorry arse in rehab, I will see to it that you're banned from life from the St. Bart's lab, and I won't let you consult on any more cases."

Sherlock glared in the man's direction, his multicolored eyes narrowing into minuscule slits. "Of course you'd take your insufferable git of a husband's side George."

Greg Lestrade-Holmes let out a sigh of his own. "You're the one being the insufferable git. No wonder you can't find someone to move in here and help you with rent. Mike told me you turned down a perfectly nice friend of his, and all because he had a little girl. I think having a child in here would do wonders for you. It might stop you from being a drug-addled idiot."

Sherlock just huffed and turned his head. Mycroft and Greg exchanged exasperated glances. The two husbands had spent nearly five years of trying to straighten out Sherlock, and none of their efforts had worked thus far. The younger man's head was as hard as a diamond.

Mycroft stood up, smoothing down his suit. "Come on Gregory dear, let's get out of this dreadful pit and go to dinner. Sherlock can sulk here like a toddler."

Greg also stood. He shot his brother-in-law one last withering look. "One of these days Sherlock, you're going to regret not taking the advice of people who love and care about you. Because quite frankly, it is a very small list."

Sherlock flinched a little at Greg's harsh words. The other two men noticed his reaction, but said nothing. If tough love was what would finally make Sherlock straighten himself out, then tough love it would be.

Mycroft and Gregory walked out the door, leaving Sherlock to his strop.

*****

John stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and began heading towards the building where Warren Raymond's' flat was, located in London's financial district. It was an elegant and expensive gray marble structure. All the windows on the second floor and up had balconies in front of them, many decorated with iron chairs and small round tables, and tiny flowered plants. 

There was even a doorman. "Good afternoon sir," he politely greeted.

John smiled at him as he opened the door for him. "Good afternoon."

John entered the lobby and made his way towards the elevator. Warren's flat was on the fifth floor, number 514.

He stepped in and soon the doors closed. John pressed the button and soon he was ascending, thinking back to his first appointment. It was an older gentleman in his 60's whose partner had passed away due to complications of a stroke several years back. His lover had been the dominant one in the relationship, and he began to miss their dom/sub dynamic. He had accepted John's orders and commands with no hesitation, and after the session was over, the two spent some time chatting, mostly about the deceased partner, who had been an Army captain, just like John.

This session however, was sure to be different. Warren Raymond was a rich thirty-four year-old investment banker with a raging military kink, and well-known to Irene and Molly via their social circle. He'd ended a relationship five months ago after he discovered his partner, a dom, had cheated on him. His time with John was his first re-entry into BDSM. John had planned to to take things slow, unless Warren gave him consent to be rough.

A pleasant ding sounded from the elevator, and the doors opened out into a long brightly lit hallway with plush burgundy carpeting. John stepped out and made his way to door 514, carrying his uniforms and props in his old Army duffel bag, mentally putting on a calm and cool composure. He rang the doorbell and a few moments later, a handsome man with jet black hair and piercing green eyes, slightly taller than John but much thinner, appeared. He had a nervous smile on his face. "John?"

John nodded and smiled, trying to put the man at ease. "Yes, hello. You must be Warren."

Warren relaxed a little. "Yes. Please come in."

John stepped inside the elegantly decorated flat. The living room was generously sized, with a large window that looked out into the street below. Warren had it decorated with an assortment of exotic figurines that sat on dark wooden shelves mounted into the cream colored wall. Tasteful black and white pictures of London hung on the walls, and a small flat-screen TV sat on a sleek, black stand against the wall. 

"Those pictures look awful familiar," John remarked.

"They were taken by a mutual friend of mine, Victor Trevor. He does excellent work," Warren replied.

"He did my photoshoot for the Leather and Lace website," John said.

John noticed Warren blush slightly at the mention of his pictures and he couldn't help but grin proudly. All of his clients so far had praised them. "Yes, he does excellent work. He was able to make this old, tired former Army Captain look decent."

"Oh, you're far from old and tired. You're a very attractive man. I'm generally partial to brunets like myself, but after my last romance went down the tubes, I decided to stay far away from dark-haired men and try a blond," Warren explained, growing confident.

"Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I know it's none of my business---" John began.

Warren smiled ruefully. "It's fine. I'm able to discuss it now without feeling sad and angry. "He cheated on me with one of his co-workers who was just nineteen. He was a paid intern and already in awe of him. I think he realized he could get on a power trip by having a much younger man at his beck and call all the time. He was starting to get a little weird in the bedroom, and I had started to object to certain things. I guess he didn't like me speaking my mind so much."

John frowned slightly. He needed to know what he could do and couldn't do. "What was he doing that made you uncomfortable? I'd like to know so I won't repeat it. This is all about your pleasure, you're the paying customer."

Warren nodded. "Gray---his full name is Grayson but I called him Gray---he started becoming obsessed with gagging me. Ball gags, handkerchiefs, anything he could stuff in my mouth and keep me quiet. One time he shoved a handkerchief down my throat so far I nearly choked and passed out. That's when I put my foot down and told him none of that. Six weeks later, he'd started sleeping with Cole and I broke things off. So, to answer your questions about what I don't want, is for you to gag me. I'll keep silent, but I want my mouth to be free."

"Of course," John replied taking it all in. He'd done research on a variety of BDSM practices to familiarize himself. He knew gagging was popular, but it was something that didn't appeal to him. However, if a client wanted to be gagged, he would do it. That's what he was there for.

"Was Gray in the military?" John wanted to know.

Warren nodded. "Not combat though. He worked in the kitchen. He's an excellent cook. He would make us meals dressed in fatigues and it was a major turn on for me. One of the reasons I actively pursued him was because he had been in the military. Ever since I was fourteen, seeing a man in camouflage turned me on. They represented protection and security to me. My childhood was pretty abusive, and I felt I had no one to turn to."

John definitely knew what that felt like. His father was a vicious bastard when drunk, and he'd been on the receiving end of many a beating. He enlisted to get away from his father, and to make something of himself.

He liked Warren. He was being open with John, trusting him, and for years John had trust issues due to his father, but he'd gradually gotten over the hurdle. Having a child did that to you.

"So Warren, what would you like to start with?" 

There was no trace of hesitation on his face. "Do you have a riding crop?"

"Yes I do." John morphed his face into his Captain Watson expression and clasped his hands behind his back, compact, muscular body forming into his classic military pose. "Go into the bedroom and remove your clothes. I will be there in ten minutes to start with the riding crop."

*****

John entered the room wearing nothing but his camouflage pants, boots, and dog tags. He held the riding crop tightly in his right hand. He saw Warren already ready on top of his bed. He was naked and face down on the comforter, his trim body perfectly still. 

"Very good soldier," John contritely told him. "Don't move."

"Yes Captain," Warren replied.

John couldn't help but smile everytime he heard someone address him with that title. Mary had told him shortly after they married that he wasn't haunted by the war, he missed it. She was right. Being in the army and being a leader gave him a sense of purpose and direction. When he was shot and invalidated out, he'd felt useless. And if it took spanking and inflicting consensual pain on someone paying good money for it to make him feel worth something again, he'd take it. He felt no shame in what he was doing. There was something raw and powerful about a total stranger handing their body over willingly to another total stranger for complete submission.

John raised the riding crop. "I'm going to start smacking you soldier. I don't want to hear a sound from you while I'm doing it, you understand?"

"Yes Captain," Warren responded with a hitch in his voice. John saw a shiver literally crawl down the other man's spine. Warren wanted this badly.

John struck Warren's pale flesh firmly. It quickly turned a bright shade of pink. 

Warren said nothing and fought hardly to keep still while John unleashed a barrage of smacks on his behind. "Excellent. You're doing wonderfully."

Warren took twenty hits from the crop. His butt was red and angry. John figured that was enough. He didn't want to break open any skin. "Perfect soldier. Stay still. I'll be right back."

John went to his bag and pulled out a tube of diaper rash cream. He'd bought it at Tesco for Evie. It had come two in a pack for the price of one. He returned to Warren, who was still unmoved. 

"I'm going to rub some ointment on your bum. Then we'll start back up again. I'll be tying you up if you like."

"Yes Captain, I'd love that," he breathed.

John grinned and began to gently massage Warren's behind. Warren stifled a moan as John's tanned, calloused fingers worked his magic on the abused flesh.

"You're a natural Captain," Warren quietly praised.

"Thank you soldier. Remain quiet."

Warren stayed silent, still face down, not daring to peek at what John was doing. John had retrieved some rope from his bag and stood in front of the bed. "Turn over soldier and keep quiet."

Warren obeyed, now lying on his back. He raised his head and saw John holding the rope, a steely look on his face. Warren's eyes widened but he remained silent. John couldn't help but glance at Warren's cock. It had twitched at the sight of the rope. Clearly bondage was something he enjoyed and turned him on. John remained composed.

"Very good. Raise your arms," John firmly commanded.

Warren did as he was told, and folded his hands in a prayer position. John began to loop one piece of rope around Warren's wrists, tying them in a basic but strong square knot. John didn't miss the sight of Warren's cock twitching again as he secured the knot, binding his wrists together.

"Excellent. Now your feet. Remember to stay still."

John did the same with his ankles. By the time he was done, Warren was fully erect.

With Warren being tied up and ordered not to move, John went back to his bag, took out his bullhorn, and came back to Warren. Upon seeing what John had in his hands, his eyes widened again, and his cock became even more flushed and erect.

John put the bullhorn to his lips. "Close your eyes soldier! Remain still and silent!" he barked through the horn. Warren barely flinched, eyes shut and lips pursed tight. 

John straddled the bound man. He could see Warren fighting to suppress a shiver. John smiled and placed a hand on top of the knot he tied around Warren's wrists. "Relax soldier. Everything okay? Do you want to stop? Shake your head yes or no."

Warren shook his head to indicate no. "We'll steady on then soldier. Keep your eyes closed," John answered.

He lowered the bullhorn in front of Warren's privates. "Since you requested me to use a bullhorn, that's what I'm going to do. However, it's not just for barking out orders."

John gently but firmly pressed the tip of the horn to the head of Warren's shaft. He could see the other man's mouth open in wide O but no sound came out.

"Good soldier, very good. I know you can handle a harder press." 

John pushed the horn tip to Warren again, applying a little more pressure. Warren opened his mouth again, but no sound came out, and this time he bucked his hips up towards the bullhorn.

"Keep still soldier," John growled, continuing to apply more pressure. Warren's erection was now a mixture of purple and red, and it was twitching like crazy. John knew he was close to coming, but if he was going to be a successful dom, he had to delay it a little more.

"You're not ready to come yet soldier," John chided. He then took the bullhorn and ran the inside up and down the length of Warren's cock.

Warren turned his head from side to side. His mouth was hanging open, desperately fighting back a moan, the sensation becoming much too much. He desperately wanted to shout and come, but he knew he couldn't. This is what he agreed to, this is what he paid so much for, and he wasn't regretting any of it. John was amazing, both gentle and commanding at the same time. He would be definitely booking more sessions.

John continued to stroke Warren with the inside of the bullhorn. The soft yet brusque movements against Warren's engorged cock became more and more sensitive. Warren bore down into the mattress and raised his chin up, struggling to maintain his composure.

John chuckled and removed the bullhorn. "You've been such a perfect little soldier. Now Private Raymond, you get your reward." He began to remove the rope from Warren's hands and feet. Once he was done, he ran a thumb over the joints, satisfied there was no rope burn or rawness on the skin. Warren continued to stay still, but inside he was on fire.

"Touch yourself soldier. Come now," John murmured with a grin, standing up, flexing his toes up and down, feeling the stretch and the burn from his feet to his thighs. He hadn't been on top of someone like that for a long time. 

Warren immediately took himself in hand and in a few short pumps, he came with a sound that was half moan, half growl, escaping from his lips. It was such a sweet release, and Warren's chest was covered in milky white.

"Feel better now?" John asked, back to himself, all traces of The Captain put back undercover.

"God yes. I didn't know how much longer I could hold it in. That was spectacular," Warren breathed. He looked down at his chest. "What a mess! I haven't come like that in a while."

"I'll get you a flannel," John offered.

"Bathroom's off to the right," Warren said.

John went in, grabbed one that was hanging on a small towel rack by the sink, wet it, and returned, handing it to Warren. "Thanks mate." He began to wash himself off.

"We still have some time left, is there anything else you'd like to do?" John asked.

"I just need to recover. That was breathtaking."

"Thank you."

Warren tossed the flannel aside, stood up, stretched, and went to retrieve a robe sitting on a chair next to the bed. He slipped it on and sat down. "I'd like to book another session whenever you're available. I have to say this is the most fun I've had with a dom."

"Really? Well thank you Warren. Let me get my phone, and we'll see when I can come back." John removed his cell from the back of his pants pocket and turned it on, pulling up the calendar app up. "All of March is booked, but I do have Monday, April 3rd open. Same time?"

Warren eagerly nodded. "Yes, that's wonderful. I'm looking forward to it. I'd like a repeat of tonight."

"You got it," John said, entering the appointment into his phone. 

Warren stood up and walked to his dresser, opening the top drawer. He took out a check and handed it to John. "Here's for a job well done. You don't know how much I needed this."

John smiled and pocketed the check. "I'm glad I could be of service. Have a good evening Warren."

He gathered up his things, put his T-shirt on, and Warren saw him out. Once he was in the hallway, heading to the elevator, he took a deep breath. It was an intense session, but very successful. He couldn't believe how easy domination was coming to him. He was truly glad he didn't turn down Irene and Molly's offer. It was the most excitement and thrills he's experienced since being in the Army.

While riding the elevator down, he took out the check and looked at it. Three hundred fifty pounds for less than two hours of getting another person off without sexual intercourse. This would take care of several weeks of nursery for Evie. In the end, that's what mattered. That he was taking care of his daughter. And that's where he was headed now, to pick up Evie. The nursery had extended hours. He would get her, get some groceries, make dinner, spend some time with her before bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, he would be moving into his new place. It wouldn't take him long, he figured he'd be all settled in by the weekend. He didn't have much upon returning to London, and most of the items he did have were Evie's toys.

John decided to catch a bus instead of hailing a cab. The stop was just a few blocks away, and it would drop him off right across the street from the nursery. The weather was surprisingly mild for this time of year, and he wanted to enjoy being out and about, since next week's weather was going to be wet and dreary according to the news.

John walked to the bus stop with a spring in his step. When he reached his destination, it was only a few minutes he had to wait, and soon the familiar red double-decker pulled up in front of him. He got on, greeted the driver, and paid his fare.

As soon as the doors closed, Sherlock walked by. Neither man noticed the other.

 

 


	5. Party Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John attends a soirée and finds a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are loving John the Dom!  
> There are some slight time jumps in the chapter.

John was quickly making a name for himself in London's sex industry. He was sporting an impressive roster of clients, and a woman by the name of Kitty Reilly had called, wanting to interview him for a special trade magazine devoted to BDSM called Bound. Kitty had interviewed Irene and Molly several years earlier. John had agreed to the interview and set up a time to talk.

John was also invited to an exclusive party, The After Dark Ball, just for those in adult entertainment. It was a splashy affair being held at The Diogenes Club on the first Saturday in April. It was a yearly event attended by strip club owners, high profile exotic dances, porn stars, models, and other doms like him. He was intrigued by the idea of attending a real adult-themed party.

He asked Irene at Molly more about it during a business lunch at Belgravia's one day. 

"So, what would I wear to this thing?" he asked. "Is it formal, or is it anything goes?"

Irene chuckled. "Well, no one shows up in a giant penis costume, if that's what you're thinking."

John laughed. "The thought did cross my mind after getting the invitation."

"It's actually very discreet. It's more like a semi-formal dinner party with cocktails and dancing. It's chance for people to unwind and talk freely about what they do without being judged," Molly helpfully explained.

John nodded. Despite being in the 21st century, many places in the world still held a puritanical view of sex. His older sister Harry was a lesbian and living in California with her girlfriend Clara. She'd left London shortly before John enlisted. Harry had always wanted to go to California, and she had the opportunity. She also wanted to get away from she and John's drunk, verbally abusive father. He was a homophobe and hadn't accepted Harry's coming out, nor John's announcement that he was bisexual. He'd mellowed after John married Mary and had Evie, and he and John had a more cordial relationship, but John had made it clear it didn't make up for the years of him acting like a brute.

 "You can bring a guest. Do you have anyone in mind?" Irene said, breaking into John's train of thought.

"Actually yes." John took a sip of his gin and tonic. "I told Warren about it, and asked him if he wanted to come with me."

Molly smiled. "Warren's a sweet guy, and he really likes you John. He spoke to Irene after your first session and really had high praise for you."

John couldn't help but blush a little. "I like him too. I'd figure he'd be more open and accepting of it than someone else."

Irene cast a knowing smirk in his direction. "So John, do you think this date would lead to a more personal relationship between the two of you?"

"He is a very handsome guy, and having money doesn't hurt, but I'd only consider it if he decided he no longer wanted to see me professionally. He'd also have to accept Evie. She does come first."

Irene nodded, and the three continued their meal with pleasant and comfortable conversation.

*****

The day of the party was here, and both John and Warren booked a morning of pampering at an exclusive spa in downtown London. John had never had a massage, or a facial, or any of the beauty treatments women went through, so for him it was a little strange. Warren was used to it though, and had paid for everything, despite John's protest. He was making good money now and could afford more luxuries than he used to. Warren insisted, and said John could treat him to lunch, which he agreed to.

When the two men walked into Par Excellence, an attractive fifty-something woman with dyed red hair and a bright smile greeted them. "Good morning gentlemen. I'm Alma Turner, owner of Par Excellence. How can I help you?"

"Uh, we have an appointment at ten, John Watson and Warren Raymond," John answered, a little sheepishly. He was still slightly embarrassed at being in a spa.

Mrs. Turner seemed to pick up on John's nervousness. "Yes, you're here for the Men's Pampering Package. Massages, oil bath, manicure and pedicure, and facial. Don't worry dear, we have a lot of male clients. They need to look and feel their best too."

John instantly relaxed and smiled. "That's good to hear."

"So what brings you in today?" Mrs. Turner asked.

"John and I are going to a party tonight and I talked him into making himself look prettier than he is," Warren explained with a cheeky grin.

"Warren!" John playfully scolded, his face turning pink.

"He's right you know, you are a very attractive man. And so is your boyfriend," Mrs. Turner said.

John and Warren both laughed and shook their heads. "We're not together, he's a very good friend," Warren replied.

"Oh, well you would make a nice couple. But enough chatter. Let's gets started. Diane and Stephanie will be taking care of you today. Have a seat and they'll be with you shortly." 

Mrs. Turner motioned towards a cozy waiting room with plush lavender furniture. John and Warren smiled at her and went to sit down.

"She's right you know. We would make a nice couple," Warren quietly stated.

John looked at him with a sober expression but Warren continued before John could speak. "But I actually met someone this week. I haven't had a chance to tell you yet. I was shopping in Sainsbury's when this guy accidentally ran into my cart. He apologized and we struck up a conversation. By the time we checked out, he'd asked me for my phone number and to dinner."

John broke out into a huge grin. "Warren that's great. You deserve some happiness." Secretly, he was relieved it wasn't going to be with him. John wanted to keep things professional, as Warren still wanted to see John for sessions.

"He's a gynecologist, believe it or not," Warren said with a chuckle.

"I'm sure he has lots of horror stories to tell then," John replied with a wink.

Seconds later Diane and Stephanie arrived to take John and Warren away for their day of beauty.

***** 

John was standing in front of the bathroom mirror giving himself one final check over. He privately admitted to himself the massage and the oil bath made him feel relaxed, limber, and hydrated. His skin was more even and glowing. 

He'd chosen to wear a suit, a dark navy pinstripe three piece with a green tie and coordinating handkerchief, paired with brown loafers. Mary had bought it for him to wear to a friend's wedding. He was glad he decided to keep it, he didn't have a lot of dressy clothes. 

His wardrobe consisted of jeans, a few khaki and navy trousers, T-shirts, some button-downs, and plenty of jumpers and light pullovers. Wearing a heavy army uniform for a few years made him appreciate comfort a lot.

Evie would be staying with the married couple he'd taken on as regular clients. They were trustworthy, and the wife was newly pregnant with their first child. Watching his daughter would be good practice for them, and as an added bonus he promised them a free session, nothing too strenuous due to the pregnancy.

His phone dinged and he knew it would be Warren. He checked it and smiled.

_I should be at your flat in about a minute._

John put his phone in his pocket, grabbed his wallet and keys, and was soon outside to wait for his friend and client.

*****

Greg looked around the ballroom in amusement. Even after five years, he still couldn't get over that The Diogenes Club, which had a reputation of being formal and stuffy, was host to a shindig where the theme was sex. Mycroft simply said the organizers had the money for renting the space, and they provided their own cleaning crew and security, so it was a beneficial arrangement for both parties. And nothing unsavory ever happened, it was just people having a good time and networking.

Greg knew the real reason why Mycroft and he attended every year. His husband on the outside was the cool and collected British government, but on the inside, he was sexually adventurous, always wanting to try new things, and the guests had lots of advice when it came to the bedroom. Both men benefited extremely from that advice.

Greg watched a stream of guests enter the ballroom. His eyes gravitated towards a short, but muscular blond man about his age, wearing a slim cut navy pinstripe suit. He was laughing, engaged in conversation with a taller brunet wearing a black suit, black pants, and pale blue shirt, open at the neck. He thought about his brother-in-law Sherlock, and his attraction to short blond men. This one would be right up his alley. Unfortunately, Sherlock also liked short blond men who were on the shady side. He'd always had a danger streak.

*****

"John, there are you are. Enjoying the party so far?" 

"Hey Irene. Yeah, it's been fun. I've met some really interesting people."

Irene was a sultry sight in a black leather bustier paired with a tight fitting, black lace trumpet skirt. She wore a black velvet choker around her slim neck, adorned with a large sparkling diamond that radiated light from all directions. Her dark hair was pulled up in an updo, the top loose and curly, with a few tendrils hanging down on the sides of her face. Her lips were bright red, and her eyes were lined in a sexy cat eye.

"Irene, you look every bit the dominatrix you are," Warren commented appreciatively.

"Thank you Warren. I have to represent our company name to the fullest."

"Where's Molly?" John asked.

"She's doing a live interview for Bound's Facebook page," Irene answered before taking a sip of her wine. Then she grinned at John. "And you Captain, are doing an interview for Bound Monday at one o'clock at Victor's studio. Bring that suit---you look amazing in it. It will make for a good picture for the spread."

John laughed. "Yes ma'am." He did a mock salute.

Suddenly there was a woman at John's side. She was slightly taller than John, with a slim, curvy figure and large breasts poured into a red leather strapless dress. She had olive skin, and light brown hair that fell past her shoulders in curly ringlets. She had a big grin on her pretty face.

"Is this the famous Captain John Watson I keep hearing about?" the woman asked in a breathy Spanish accent?

"The one and only," John replied with a smile.

"Oooh, I've been wanting to meet you for weeks." She held out a perfectly manicured hand. "Raquel Gomez," but professionally I'm "Nurse Raquel."

John shook it. "Pleased to meet you."

"Raquel used to work for Leather and Lace but struck out on her own," Irene explained.

"Yes, Miss Irene taught me all I know. Now I have my own business," she said proudly, putting her arm around Irene.

"Nurse?" John said, a little confused.

"Oh yes. There are quite a few people who get off on having someone dress up a sexy nurse who'll give them scrub baths, wrapping them up in gauze, and putting thermometers in very private places."

John instantly knew what she meant. As an Army doctor, he did have some who seemed to get aroused during an examination. "Were you an actual nurse?" he asked.

Raquel nodded. "I still have my RN license. But this is what brings in the bucks. I have a disabled husband to support, and his medical bills are through the roof. He has no problem with what I do. There's no actual sex and he knows I come home to him. He used to be in the Army, and while he didn't suffer any physical trauma, he has severe depression and PTSD to the point he can't work. My nursing job kept me away from him a lot, and in the end, I decided I needed to have a job where I could set my own hours and be more at home with him."

"I was a doctor in the Army, and I have PTSD as well. I got shot in the shoulder and that was it for me. I didn't know what I was going to do. I didn't think I would be using my military experience as a dominator, but it's been very rewarding. I've met a lot of nice people---" he looked at Warren---and I can take care of my daughter at the same time."

"So many people don't really know why we do what we do. They assume it's all about sex. It is, but we've got bills and taxes to pay just like them. Look, why we don't we meet back up before the party ends and exchange numbers. I think my husband would love to talk to you. I think he would like meeting someone that has had similar experiences. It would cheer him up a bit."

John nodded. "I'd like that."

Raquel threw her arms around John. "Thank you, you're a sweetheart. I'll see you later. Bye Irene!" She sauntered off towards the dance floor.

"Raquel is a doll. You don't meet many like that in our industry," Irene remarked.

"You know John, if you get bored of being The Captain, you could be The Army Doctor and start doing cavity searches," Warren joked.

John laughed heartily. "That might just be an option."

*****

The rest of the evening was a fun blur of dancing and schmoozing. John was in disbelief that so many were interested in him, a short, disabled veteran, a widowed father, who looked like he could be doing taxes in some office somewhere. Not sexually stimulating strangers in nothing but dog tags and camouflage trousers. But maybe that's why he was so fascinating to so many, because he didn't look like the stereotypical dom. In the end, it got him two new clients (one of the bartenders and his boyfriend), and heightened exposure for Leather and Lace. Irene and Molly were beyond thrilled and so excited, the two had left early and retired to their flat for some adult activities of their own.

Hours later, John was now at his flat, lounging on the sofa in a pair of pajama bottoms and his old ROTC shirt, answering emails and booking appointments. Tomorrow, he'd pick Evie up and the two would spend the day together at the zoo before his busy workweek began. John had never been happier, and when the clock struck two-fifteen in the morning, he'd fallen into a peaceful sleep free of nightmares.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raquel is based on Sofia Vergera.
> 
> Sherlock encounters John again next chapter...


	6. Start Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock worms his way onto a crime scene at a posh hotel. Of course John is working at the same hotel! And sweet, handsome Victor asks John out (because Sherlock is still too much of a hot mess at this point).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there won't be any serious Johnvic, but I like the idea of the two in a friendly relationship. Sherlock hasn't fully taken in the perfection that is John, but once he does, he'll wonder why he didn't at first!

A new week was here, and John's Monday was going to be a busy one. He'd dropped off Evie at daycare, and after breakfast the bulk of the morning was spent reviewing his bookings and confirming appointments. He also responded to a text from his new friend Raquel, inviting him to lunch with her and her husband Luke. They all were free on Friday afternoon, and plans were set to meet at a coffee shop not far from the lab where John used to work. Raquel explained her husband was not comfortable in upscale restaurants, and the coffee shop was a favorite of his. John was fine with that. His bank account may have gotten larger but that didn't mean four star meals at four star prices all the time. 

John took a quick shower, then dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a white button-down paired with a brown leather jacket. His interview with Kitty Reilly was at one sharp at Victor Trevor's studio. He left his flat and decided to catch a bus to the studio, carrying in a bag his suit he wore Saturday night, which had been dry-cleaned on Sunday while he and Evie were at the zoo. He also had in the bag a pair of camo pants and a black T-shirt that said CAPTAIN WATSON on it. Warren had it specially made for him. 

On his way to the studio, John smiled as he remembered his day out with his daughter. She'd been thrilled to see all the animals, squealing and laughing the entire time. Then they had ice cream. John wished Mary had been there to see Evie's happy little face smeared in vanilla custard and rainbow sprinkles. John had taken this coming Saturday off to have another daddy/daughter date at a children's museum on the outskirts of London.

The trip to Victor's took only ten minutes and he was soon walking towards the nondescript building, basking in the early spring sunshine. He entered the studio and saw Sarah sitting at her desk rapidly typing. He approached her and she looked up at him and smiled. "Good afternoon John. Victor and Kitty are already here and waiting. Go on back."

"Thanks." John walked past the desk and through the doors into the spacious loft-style room. Victor was setting up his camera and Kitty Reilly, an attractive redhead in her thirties, wearing a black tunic dress and burgundy leggings with black leather ankle-length boots, stood next to him. She saw John and her face broke out into a grin. "John Watson," she greeted, holding out her hand. "Kitty Reilly."

John shook it gently. "Hello Ms. Reilly. Nice to put a face to the voice."

Victor waved to John. "Hi John."

"Hi Victor. Didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon."

Victor laughed. "Me neither, but you're hot property, and I do all the photo shoots for Bound."

"Irene told me to bring my suit for pictures." He held up his bag. "Do you want me to change now?"

"Not yet. I'll be doing my interview first, and then we'll get the pictures. You look great just as you are, but I think we should leave the jacket off during the first set of pics and leave you in the white shirt and jeans. What do you think Vic?" Kitty said.

Victor nodded. "I agree. And I think he should be barefoot too."

John chuckled. "I don't think anyone wants to see my ugly feet."

"Nonsense John. Barefoot pics are very popular with our readers. It makes the subjects look more approachable. Most people have an assumption that doms can be intimidating and unfriendly. Our magazine strives to humanize them. Don't get me wrong, they enjoy seeing them all dressed up in their gear, but they also enjoy the more down-to-earth shots," Kitty explained.

"I did bring in a pair of camos and a T-shirt one of my clients had made for me," John said.

"One of your clients got you customized clothing?" Kitty asked with a cheeky grin.

"Yep. It says 'CAPTAIN WATSON' on it." John laughed. "I'm going to wear it to my one of my sessions tonight."

 "Oooh, I love it!" Kitty gushed.

*****

The interview went very smooth. John teared up when talking about being shot and sent home, feeling worthless, then meeting Mary, and her sudden and heartbreaking death. He was honest when he talked about how he enjoyed his new line of work and he didn't care if people had a problem with it. He would have to tell his daughter once she got older how he supported the two of them, but John said he wasn't planning to be in the domination business all his life ("I don't think anybody wants a wrinkly sixty-five year-old smacking someone's bare arse with a riding crop and cooing "good boy" in their ear.")  He wanted to make enough to be financially secure, and then he would go back to pursuing his dream of being a doctor. But for now, he was extremely happy, and being a dominator brought back the excitement and thrills he craved since being in the army.

The photo shoot was a lot more relaxed this time around. John was more comfortable with getting into his Captain persona, and Victor got a lot of great pictures. "You're very photogenic John," he'd praised.

"Yeah, that's because of all the filters you put on my photos," John joked back. 

"I don't think you realize how attractive you are," Victor told him seriously. "As a matter of fact, I'd like to take you out to dinner sometime."

John was surprised to say the least. "You're kidding. You want to go on a date with me, a weary-eyed, disabled ex-soldier?"

Victor nodded. "I think you're an interesting guy."

"Well," John remarked, lips curling into a coy smile. "Since you put it that way, I accept your dinner invitation."

Victor beamed. "Great! There's this hole-in-the-wall bistro not too far from the London Eye. It doesn't look like much on the outside, but it's got the best Indian cuisine I've ever had."

"Sounds nice. I like Indian food," John replied.

"How's your schedule looking? I've got Saturday night or Sunday night."

"Saturday night is fine." 

"How about I pick you up Saturday at seven-thirty?" 

"It's a date."

Victor grinned. "I'll see you Saturday night Captain." He reached out and stroked John's cheekbone with his thumb, and it caused the shorter man to shiver. Things were definitely picking up, not only money wise, but love-life wise too. He wasn't quite ready for anything serious, but it would be nice to go out with someone he already had a rapport with, and was a decent person. 

But the week had just begun and you know how Mondays are...

*****

"What the hell are you doing here Freak?"

"Nice to see you too. I take it the sex with Anderson wasn't that great?"

"WHAT???"

Sergeant Sally Donovan's face contorted into a mix of fury and confusion at Sherlock's offhand remark.

"Oh please Donovan. You and Anderson have been a thing for months now despite his marriage. Don't deny it, although you probably should. I don't see how any woman could sleep with that---"

"Just go Holmes. I don't have the time or the patience to deal with you tonight."

Sherlock smirked at the exasperated policewoman and walked into Room 1666 at The Scarlet Hotel, shaking his head at the obvious red and black theme of the space that screamed boudoir and sex, although he did appreciate the black damask wallpaper on a section of the wall where the round velvet bed was. 

It was on that bed, lying in a mess of rumpled sheets, a body. A nude blonde male, thirtyish, with his neck slit. The blood that ran down from his slashed throat and ended just above his ground was still bright red, so a recent kill. The man's pale blue eyes were open, as was his mouth, a disturbing look of fright frozen on flesh. 

Sherlock recognized Lestrade, who was talking to one of the crime scene techs, a young Asian woman who he hadn't seen before but he could tell she wasn't new, she just hadn't been the tech on the scenes he was at. It had always been the insufferable Anderson. Who blessedly was nowhere in sight.

Lestrade turned around, and upon seeing Sherlock he let out a long sigh. "Sherlock, what are you doing here? I told Sally not to let you in."

"You need me. This is the first of many. A serial killer is at work. The Yard is too incompetent for this one."

Greg pinched his nose, trying to keep calm. "We've solved plenty of murders before you came around."

"But not as quickly as I do." Sherlock stared hard at his brother-in-law. "Greg---"

"Oh, so it's Greg now? Any other time, it's George, or Graham, or Gavin." 

Sherlock looked at him pleadingly, like a puppy trying to get extra treats. "Greg, please. Let me help you with this. You're going to need it. You believe me when I say this is the only the first, I know you do."

Greg shook his head. "Yeah Sherlock, I do believe me. God help me. Maybe this will keep you occupied and away from drugs and sex with pervy strangers."

"So you'll let me solve this case." Sherlock's expression was now one of steely resolve.

Greg nodded. "Yeah. Let the techs and the photographer do their job first, then you get carte blanche to inspect the body. Okay?"

"Fine." He smirked at Greg. "So uh, why isn't Anderson on this one? Did the higher ups finally figure out what an incompetent fool he is?"

"He took a leave of absence. Personal problems. To be honest, I'm glad he isn't here. You're not the only one he antagonizes."

Sherlock grinned so wide his laugh lines traveled all the way down his cheekbones. "You do know he's sleeping with Sergeant Donovan?"

Greg snorted. "Of course. Everyone at the Yard knows about their affair, except for Mrs. Anderson. So now the two of them are off to some ritzy marriage rehab, all expenses paid by the wife's in-laws. They love him. I'll never understand why, but hey, it's their money."

"Most people are idiots," Sherlock flatly replied.

All Greg could do was shake his head again. _Yeah, in-laws_ , he said to himself.

*****

Meanwhile, in Room 842, John, dressed in nothing but his camo pants, boots, dog tags, and an olive green baseball cap on his head, was doing his bullhorn trick on a the very hard penis of a very stimulated twenty-six year-old named Owen.  The short, sturdy brown-haired man was blindfolded, gagged, and trussed, all at his request. 

John could hear Owen wimper as he increased the pressure of the bullhorn to his genitals. "Steady soldier," he gently chided. "If you don't keep quiet, you don't get to come."

Owen quickly turned silent.

"Very good Private Haines. You're being so good for your Captain. I think you can take a little bit more of this can't you?"

Owen nodded, his breathing heavy.

"Excellent." John all but smashed the front of the bullhorn against Owen's cock, stroking it wildly. Owen fought back a cry, and John could see his muscles cramp as he remained in vain to keep quiet. The younger man bit down on the handkerchief used to keep him from talking.

John firmly placed the palm of his left hand on Owen's forehead, pushing down on his skin in time with the bullhorn, his hand leaving an impression on the tanned skin. "How do you like that soldier? Feels good, doesn't it?"

Owen nodded again, no sound escaping from his mouth.

Slowly, John released his palm and lay down the bullhorn on the bed. He could see Owen breathe a sigh of relief and begin to relax, a grin forming on his mouth between the silky fabric that lay there. 

"You were a very good soldier today Private Haines. Now it's time for your reward." 

John untied Owen, and took away the blindfold and the gag. Owen slowly sat up, his hand instantly reaching for his swollen, stiff prick. He took a few hard strokes and came fast, moaning as white waves streamed forth and coated his chest. "Ung," he grunted in pleasure, now that his cock was flaccid. 

John went into the bathroom, wincing at the red walls as he soaked a flannel in cold water under the faucet and returned to the bed to hand it to Owen. He'd seen enough red during his days in the Army, he couldn't begin to comprehend why anyone thought it be a good color for a wall. For him, it was like staring at a sky filled with blood.

But red also meant passion and excitement, so it made sense that a hotel catered to sex workers and their clients would have red as their main color scheme. It reminded John of a massive bordello, but The Scarlet Hotel catered to an upscale clientele. The decorations were not cheap and trashy, there were no mirrors on the ceilings. There were two bars, one on the top floor, and one downstairs, and a very expensive restaurant known for their French cuisine. 

His client, Owen Haines, was a trust fund kid who had moved to London to work on his masters degree in business administration at Cambridge. His family was from the States, Savannah Georgia, and his father owned and operated a freight company, Haines Shipping. They were looking to expand in England, and Owen jumped at the chance to run the operation over here.

Owen also moved to England to put distance between he and his family, who were not thrilled with his homosexuality but tolerated it as long as he showed an interest in the family business. Owen had a younger sister, Emma, who was nineteen, and the spoiled favorite child. He and John had something in common, disapproving parents, and the two talked about their families when John wasn't in his military uniform dominating the other man.

Owen finished wiping himself off and looked up to smile at John. "That was mind-blowing. Thanks John."

John had put his Captain Watson shirt on, and removed his ballcap. "You're welcome Owen. Would you like to book another session?"

"I'd love to, but I've got two papers to write for school, so I'll be spending most of my time now on my laptop in my dorm room. Once my work's done, I'll call you."

"Sounds great. Good luck with uni---I know how tough it can be."

Owen handed John his fee, all cash, and the two shook hands before John left the room. It had been another successful evening, and John decided to celebrate with a drink in the bar downstairs before heading home. Evie was at his neighbor's, and last time he called to check in, his little girl was snuggled under a blanket engrossed in Sesame Street videos. "Daddy home night," she'd told him over the phone, her way of telling him to come home soon. 

Soon John was sitting at a small round table in the bar, having ordered a bourbon, and an appetizer of shrimp cocktail. He figured the small meal would tide him over until breakfast tomorrow.

*****

Sherlock entered the bar. He had examined the body and deduced that the deceased was unmarried, gay, no children, worked as a primary school teacher (thanks to graphite stains on his hands and a faded spot on his palm that was red marker), and the person who killed him was a stranger that lured him to the hotel with a promise of sex. There had been no sexual contact between killer and victim, so the perpetrator had gotten him comfortable to the point where he took off his clothes, and then the unknown assailant pounced, slitting his throat. Sherlock also knew he'd been drugged. The victim was muscular and fit, and he would have put up a good fight defending himself. Greg hadn't been so sure, but Sherlock was adamant a toxicology screen would come back positive for GHB, or a similar drug. There was a minibar in the room and Sherlock was sure he'd had something to drink as soon as he got there.

Sherlock took a seat on one of the stools, ordering a glass of wine. He was never one to indulge in alcohol (not when heroin or cocaine was his high of choice), but he thought he'd have some tonight. It was also an excuse to scope out the bar, and perhaps interview the bartender. Bartenders usually had loose lips, and were good judges of character.

Tonight however, was an exception. The bartender on duty was a sour-faced young girl barely in her thirties who was upset that she was called into work on her night off, thanks to her co-worker calling out. There was no reason for her to be mad Sherlock thought, as her plans were with her boyfriend, and she was going to break up with him tonight. She could dump him tomorrow.

Sherlock got his wine, and casually spun around in his seat to observe the rest of the room. There were a few patrons there, nothing spectacular...and then his multi-colored eyes landed on the compact, toned blond sitting by himself, munching on shrimp cocktail and sipping a bourbon. 

Sherlock recognized him. It was the man whom he'd turned down for a flatshare. But when Sherlock met him, he was wearing a hideous cream colored jumper and baggy jeans. Now, he was in a tight-fitting black T-shirt which showed off his strong arms that said CAPTAIN WATSON in white block letters, paired with camouflage pants...and boots. Military style boots. 

How had he missed it? How did it escape him that the nondescript, ordinary man called John Watson he'd met at St. Bart's was nothing but nondescript and ordinary, that he was a former Army captain--- and filled all of Sherlock's fantasies about blond men and soldiers? Well, he wasn't about to make the mistake he did at the morgue. Especially with the tingles rushing through his body. It felt better than the high off any drug he'd ever taken.

More questions ran through his mind. Why was here at a hotel where the majority of the customers were high-class escorts? He couldn't be a client. No, he had to be an escort---but why the military clothing? No, he wasn't an escort. He wasn't having sex with his clients. He was a dom, using his experience for those that had a military kink and wanted to be ordered into submission. 

Sherlock required more data. He required this man.

He stood, putting on his most charming smile, and walked over to John.

"Hello. I believe we've previously met?"

John looked up. He recognized Sherlock, and frowned slightly. Sherlock tried not to wince. John definitely had remembered how coldly he treated him.

"Yes, we have. You rejected me as a flatmate."

"I know. And I'm sorry." He felt weird apologizing. It wasn't something he did often.

John then broke out into the most beautiful smile Sherlock ever saw. "Don't be. I have a lovely flat now."

Sherlock hid his disappointment. "That's great." 

John looked him up and down, and Sherlock wanted so much to puff his chest out and preen like a peacock  to impress the blond. "So what brings you here? I didn't peg you for an escort." 

Sherlock smirked. "Hardly. I'm here investigating a murder." 

John's dark blue eyes widened in shock. "Please tell me you're kidding!" 

Sherlock shook his head. "No. It happened on the sixteenth floor. A man had his throat slit." 

John shuddered. "God that's awful. I can't believe they didn't close the hotel."

"The Yard asked management to keep it under wraps."

"What if people get suspicious seeing police wandering around?" 

Sherlock chuckled. "You're new in this business aren't you. This is your first time working in a hotel." 

John shot him a fierce glare. "How in the hell did you know---" 

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. Besides, management won't close the hotel, they're used to seeing police. They have an 'agreement' with them." 

 John guffawed. "I can probably guess what that agreement is. Even the rich have their troubles. Still, it's disturbing to know a murder's been committed right under your nose."

He unconsciously kicked his lips, and Sherlock couldn't help but stare at the sight of his pink tongue darting out. It was just an ordinary habit, but on John it was extremely sensual. 

He could have kicked himself for turning this beautiful man down as a flatmate. That ship may have sailed, but maybe he could still spend time with him. 

He would simply become one of his clients. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock won't to get experience the Captain just yet. Good things come to those who wait...


	7. Operation Find John Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is enthralled, obsessed, and horny over John, and thanks to a flirtatious office worker, gets the information he needs. The game is on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the long Labor Day weekend I was able to post another update. It's a short and sweet chapter, and originally it was going to involve a comical sex scene between Sherlock and the receptionist, but I decided to delete it because it was too out-of-left-field and distracted from the overall plot and tone of the story. Enjoy!

It was Tuesday morning, and John was at Irene and Molly's flat. The three were having a breakfast meeting, and John had relayed to the two women the previous nights' events, including his meetup with Sherlock Holmes.

"He's a strange one," John remarked.

Irene snorted. "That's the understatement of the year."

"He knew that it was my first time working at the hotel and seemed to know I was a dom. It caught me off guard, but he was so busy rattling off at the mouth that I just waved it off." John shook his head and took a sip of his Earl Grey. "I think I dodged a bullet becoming his flatmate."

"I think he was trying to impress you. Sherlock has a thing for blonds and soldiers, especially blond soldiers," Molly said with a coy smile. She turned to Irene. "Do you remember the time you and I went to his flat to pay him for his consulting work and that guy rushed out of the door in nothing but his boxer briefs and dog tags?"

"Oh God yes! He told us Sherlock was a damn good shag but he told him his life story, even correctly guessed his secret Cabbage Patch Doll collection he kept hidden in a closet!" The two ladies broke out into giggles, and John chuckled loudly. 

A few beats later, he composed himself and John's blue eyes turned stormy. "So he's got a thing for blond soldiers huh? Well, he better keep his 'thing' far away from me."

Irene laughed. "I wouldn't count on it John. Sherlock's a very determined man. When he wants something, he usually gets it."

"Is that right?" John took another sip of tea and smiled deviously. "Well, I'm going to be the exception to that rule."

*****

Sherlock was naked sitting cross legged on his king-sized bed, laptop on his lean, muscular thighs. He was on the Leather and Lace website (after having deduced that John, a veteran with high morals and trust issues, would not dom outlaw, but working for a reputable business with an exclusive clientele,) gawking at John's pictures. Dear Lord, the man was HOT.

The one of him shirtless holding the riding crop, tip perched teasingly down into the crotch of his camouflage pants, had Sherlock's cock stirring and twitching like it never had before. He needed a session with this man badly. He needed to have John tell him what a good soldier he was while smacking his round and perfect behind with a riding crop. He wasn't bragging about his arse, everyone he'd slept with had told him how amazing it was. 

But he'd left a bad impression on John thanks to his rude treatment towards him and dismissal of his child. He was determined to make John see Sherlock, for the first time in his life, had been wrong about someone, and that he wanted to start over again. Preferably with John standing over him, sweat glistening on his tanned, toned chest in nothing but those camouflage pants and dog tags. 

Sherlock cast the laptop aside and took himself in hand, picturing the fantasy in his mind. It wasn't long before he was coming with a loud groan, spilling out hard and hot into his hand.

After a long shower, he threw on a pair of black sweatpants and tied his blue dressing gown around him, settled on the couch with the laptop, and clicked on the link to book a session with John. A box popped up indicating April was filled, and John was now booking May appointments.

This was completely unacceptable. Sherlock wanted him NOW. So he decided on Plan B. He would call Leather and Lace and get John's schedule from the receptionist, Janine. Sherlock knew Janine had the hots for him, it would be easy to charm her into having access to John's information, specifically, his phone number and address. He was not going to let John Watson slip through his fingers.

*****

Sherlock arrived at the Leather and Lace office, which was a downstairs below where Irene and Molly lived, which they bought and turned into the reception area and work spaces. Janine was sitting at her desk, filing her nails, which today were painted bright purple. Upon seeing Sherlock, she flashed a predatory grin. "Well, hello gorgeous. Couldn't stay away from me, huh?"

Janine had cut her dark wavy hair short, in the popular bob style where one side of hair came down to the cheekbone. She had on a black sleeveless sheath dress that hugged her curves, a short silver Y necklace around her neck, and hoop earrings.

Sherlock put on his sexiest smile and gazed down at Janine. "Hello Janine. I was wondering if you could help me."

"Anything for you hot stuff," she purred.

"I need the phone number and address of one of your doms, John Watson. I'm working on a case and he could be a potential witness." Well, it was a tiny half-truth.

"Normally I can't give that information out, but if it's a police matter, I'm sure Irene and Molly won't have an issue with it."

Sherlock grinned. This was going to be easier than he thought. 

"However," Janine drawled, her lips forming a smirk, "you're going to have to make it worth my while for me to give it to you. Give me what I want, and I'll give you what you want."

Sherlock fought back a sigh, knowing Janine wanted him to perform a sexual act. She strongly hinted at it last time he was there while helping Irene catch her blackmailer.

"Janine, how many times must I tell you women are not my area?"

"Ten minutes gorgeous, that's all I'm asking. Let me ride your cock and I'll print out John's profile. I'll do all the work, you just sit there and let me have my fun. I'll even let you enter through the backdoor." She winked at him and licked her lips.

Sherlock thought about it. It wouldn't be the worst trade off he'd done to score something he wanted. He'd bottomed for drugs with less than savory characters in alleys and dingy flats, and did let a woman go down on him in exchange for information on a murder he was able to solve. All he had to do was shut off his mind for ten minutes, let Janine have her pleasure, and he'd be one step closer to the perfection that was John Watson, former Army captain.

"Well beautiful? You going to give me the best ten minutes of my life or what?" Janine asked silkily.

Sherlock stared intensively at her with his heterochromic eyes, and Janine licked her lips again and began to push up the hem of her dress.

"Do you think it's wise to proposition me while you're in a sexual relationship with one of your co-workers? Billy, isn't it?"

Janine went wide-eyed and quickly pushed her dress back down to her knees. "How---how did you know? We're trying to keep it on the down low."

"Simple. Last time I was here, he was here, and the entire time you were flirting with me, you kept looking over your shoulder and sneaking glances at him to make sure he wasn't hearing any of your attempts at seduction. If you weren't dating him, you wouldn't be doing that."

Janine sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, I'll give you John's contact information. But you don't tell anyone okay? I actually like this job and want to keep it."

"Agreed," Sherlock replied curtly.

In just a few minutes Sherlock had a printout which listed John's address and cell number. "Thank you Janine," Sherlock said, and quickly left the office, grateful his deduction spared him from a go with the horny receptionist. He stared at the piece of paper like his life depended on it.

*****

Sherlock was back at his flat and in his dressing gown, lying on the couch, hands folded beneath his chin and eyes closed, thinking. He wanted to go to John's flat now and convince him to take him on as a client, but he knew John would reject him. So he had to work himself up slowly to approach him.

He had disguised himself several times while solving cases, he could do it while staking out John. There was his old man getup, his uni student outfit, and he had an abundance of women's clothes and shoes. But Sherlock found undergarments and heels extremely uncomfortable, and he went in drag as little as possible.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he darted off the couch, heading for his bedroom closet. A whole section was devoted to his disguises. He went through several items of clothing and wigs and it wasn't long before he'd had his new identity. He'd found a long platinum blond wig, black Doc Martens left over from his grunge phase at uni, dark rinse skinny jeans, a black button-down shirt that wasn't bespoke, and an olive green windbreaker. Ray-Ban sunglasses completed his look. It wouldn't be too cumbersome, but he'd be unrecognizable to John. He was eager to put everything on and start Operation Find John Watson, but it could wait until tomorrow morning. He would head to John's flat early and trail him all over town the rest of the day.

He was so pleased with himself he decided to reward himself with a cigarette even though he was wearing three nicotine patches on his arm. 

*****

Sherlock blew out a long stream of smoke and sighed happily. Sod Mycroft and his lectures on cigarettes, he could enjoy one every now and then. It wasn't like he shoved an entire pack into his mouth. 

He burrowed down even deeper into his couch, preparing to take another drag, when his phone that sat on the coffee table buzzed with a text. Sherlock picked it up and looked at it. It was his brother-in-law.

**_Sherlock, we found another body. Male and blond with his throat slit. Address is 32 Harley Street. Come as soon as you can._ **

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's disguise is based on his appearance as Julian Assange in The Fifth Estate.


	8. Somebody's Watching Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock stalks John around London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with an update! Just a short chapter with Sherlock being Sherlock.

John stared at the man with the long blondish white hair. He looked familiar but John couldn't place him. He paid him no mind as he bundled Evie and himself into a cab, headed for his daughter's nursery. Then from there, he would do some shopping, clean the flat, and check his appointments and answer emails.

*****

Sherlock smirked to himself as he watched John leave in the cab. He was sure he didn't see past his disguise. Now he could follow him around the city, get his routine down, and John would have to give in eventually and give him a session.

*****

"Some kook's been stalking me as I do my errands. He was in front of my flat this morning, I saw him at Waitrose as I did my shopping, and he was on the bus as I rode here. I can't shake him," John complained to Victor.

The other man shook his head. And he's not one of your clients?" Victor asked as he polished a lens.

"Nope. I would have remembered someone like him. He's got very light blond hair, so light it looks almost white, and he's tall and lean."

"Could be a disguise," Victor speculated.

"Hmm, it could be. But I couldn't even begin to imagine who'd want to follow me, or why."

Victor grinned and put down his camera, moving close to John. "That's because you're so good-looking."

John laughed. "Oh yeah, that has to be it."

"How about lunch? There's a good Chinese place across the street," Victor offered.

"I thought our date was Saturday night," John said with a smile.

"That's dinner. This is a lunch date."

John chuckled. "You got me there. Let's go then. I could do with some sweet and sour chicken."

The two left the studio and were outside in the early afternoon sunshine, heading towards the restaurant, oblivious to the blond staring intensely at them from inside a coffee shop window.

*****

Sherlock studied John and the other man walking beside them. They were laughing and talking. They were definitely friends, but there was a hint it would be more.

Oh no.

His perfect, sexy soldier had someone else interested in him, and a very handsome and successful one at that. He'd have to step up his game, in between trying to crack the serial murders for the Yard. The two victims resembled John, and he wanted him to be safe. So his stalking wasn't entirely for sexual purposes. He didn't want John to end up a victim.

*****

"Sherlock, what in the hell do you think you're doing in that getup?"

The lanky detective whirled around from his bench seat to see Greg standing behind him with an incredulous look on his face.

"If you must know Gavin, I'm doing a stakeout."

Who are you staking out? And for the last time, it's _Greg_."

Sherlock didn't answer, his eyes were trained on the front of the Chinese restaurant, waiting for John to come out. He and his friend had been in there for an hour.

"Sherlock..."

He turned around and sighed with exasperation. "If you must know, I'm doing surveillance on a potential victim."

"Potential victim? Of what?" Greg asked, puzzled.

Sherlock sighed again and shook his head. "How you made it to DCI I'll never know."

Greg glared at his brother-in-law. "Spare me the insults and get to the point."

"The serial murders. The two victims were short, muscular and blond. I met a dom at the hotel the night the first victim was discovered. He fits the physical description the murderer is going after."

Greg sat down next to Sherlock. "How does it fit in thought? Our first two victims regularly visited male escorts. The guy you're stalking is a sex worker providing the service. The killer is probably a sex worker."

Just then, John and Victor left the restaurant, Greg and Sherlock watched them go, and Greg recognized John.

"I know him, the guy you're tailing," Greg said.

Sherlock sharply turned to face him. "What do you mean, you know him? How? When? Where? Why?" he accused breathlessly.

"Woah, hold up!" Greg said, raising a hand. "He was at the After Dark Ball at the Diogenes Club. I never talked to him. He was with another guy, and it's not the one he's with now....and oh God..."

"What?" Sherlock barked. "What's with the oh God?"

Greg turned pink. "I saw him and thought he was exactly the type of man you like. Short, blond, military posture...Jesus Sherlock, you're not staking him out because of the murders, you're attracted to him! You're stalking him!"

Sherlock turned away, saying nothing. Greg shook his head. "Sherlock, you realize this behavior can get you thrown behind bars, especially if he lodges a complaint?"

Greg stood up and grabbed Sherlock's arm. "This ends now. We're going home. It's a good thing Myc was monitoring the CCTV and recognized your silly disguise."

"Let me go Greg!" Sherlock hissed.

"No way. You were warned about your behavior. If you don't come home I'm taking you off the murder investigation."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "You wouldn't!"

"Watch me," Greg warned, mouth set in a firm line.

Sherlock went limp. "Fine," he huffed. " _I'll just have to find another way to see John_ , he thought.

*****

John and Victor watched the scene across the street with amusement. "Looks like you don't have to worry about your stalker," Victor said with a chuckle.

"The other guy has to be a cop. Maybe he spooked someone else and they called the police," John replied. 

"Well, it's none of our concern. Hey, how long is it before you have to pick Evie up from nursery?" Victor asked.

"A few hours, why? Have you got other plans for me?" John's smile was playful and coy.

"Nothing like that, not yet anyway. But I'm working on a new project. It's about a day in the life of a heart surgeon and with you being a doctor, I'd thought you'd like to see my initial shots."

"I'd love to," John answered. 

The two began the walk back to Victor's studio, with Victor's arm slung around John's waist, and Sherlock watching the two from Greg's car, pouting like a child who was told he couldn't have any ice cream after dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The killer will be revealed next chapter and I'm sure you know who it is!


	9. For Love of a Tiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The killer and his motive is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo-hoo, an update! Lots of stuff has been going on, some good (Christmas shopping) and some bad (I had to stay overnight with my mom due to sudden dizzy spells, and dealing with her illness). 
> 
> So we meet our killer, and it's the most obvious choice. But I think you'll find this version of him interesting. This is a darker, more angst-filled chapter, not too graphic, but be warned.

The handsome, short, tiny dark-haired man unlocked the door to his flat with his keys. "Darling, I'm home!" he called out while walking through the foyer and into the spacious living room.

About thirty seconds later, the sound of an electric wheelchair buzzed, and an equally handsome, small-built, but muscular man the same age appeared with a broad smile on his face. "Hi Jimmy. I'm glad you're back. I missed you."

Jim Moriarty grinned and leaned down to kiss his boyfriend. "I missed you too tiger. Did you have a good day today?"

Sebastian Moran nodded. "Yes, it was a good day. Much better than yesterday. Less pain today."

Jim moved to stand behind Sebastian, massaging shoulders. A grimace appeared on his face, and his chocolate brown eyes darkened in quiet fury. "Well don't worry Sebby, I'm making sure there's no more pain. At least mentally and emotionally. I'm getting them and making them feel what you felt."

Sebastian closed his eyes and hummed, enjoying the touch of Jim's hands. It had taken him nearly a year to enjoy the feel of someone else's hands on his body. He gave off a small shudder, and Jim immediately stopped his ministrations. 

"You're thinking about him Sebby, I know you are."

Sebastian nodded. "I can't help it Jimmy. There are days when I don't see his leering face at all, hear that sleazy voice saying all those horrible things, and then all of a sudden, I start thinking, remembering..."

Jimmy knelt in front of Sebastian, tenderly cupping his face. "I know it's difficult. But I'm taking care of it, taking care of you. No one is going to hurt my tiger anymore, I promise you." He placed another soft kiss on his lips.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Jim. "I don't know where I'd be without you. You're the best thing that happened to me."

Jim smiled, remembering the day he met Sebastian. Jim was double majoring in law and chemistry at Oxford. His studies were intense and demanding, leaving him little time for socialization, but that was fine with him. He barely had friends, and didn't have a lot of patience to deal with what he called "ordinary people." But he felt the pull to get out and break free every once in a while.

And it was on one of those pulls where he met the love of his life.

He was in a pub, which surprised even him, he generally avoided them as they were full of drunken, rowdy idiots waiting to start a fight, or middle-aged men drinking their midlife angst away while swapping stories about how better it used to be in the good old days. It annoyed him immensely.

This pub was different. It had its share of uni students, but they were quiet, either watching TV or studying. His uneasiness had subsided and he took a seat by the window, watching the rain fall down on the blacktop. Rainy nights were something he enjoyed. 

He was engrossed in watching the rain through the glass he didn't hear the voice at first asking to buy him a drink.

When he finally looked up, he saw a man, about his height, a few years older than him, with short blondish-brown hair, cut short. It had been military style but now growing out. He wore dark jeans and a loose-fitting camouflage T-shirt. Silver dog tags were hanging around his neck. He was thin, but muscular.

Jim thought he was gorgeous, but kept his cool. "Hi," he finally said.

The man smiled. "You like the rain."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, it calms me."

"I like the rain too. Whenever it fell in Afghanistan and I wasn't shooting Taliban fighters, I would run around in it like a little kid." He smiled ruefully. "You get to appreciate the little things like that when you're deep in heavy combat and the next breath you take could be your last."

And from then on, Jim was fascinated and enchanted by the handsome soldier with the tattoo of a tiger on his back whose name was Sebastian Moran. He had been honorably discharged due to a knee injury.

The two had moved into a creaky flat on Montague Street a month later, and were inseparable. Jim loved Sebastian's brutal honesty and dark humor, and Sebastian loved Jim's quirkiness and intelligence, even though their families weren't too keen on the pairing at first. But they got over their doubts and realized it was meant to be. Jim graduated with his degrees and got a job in his father's law firm. Sebastian found work as a mail courier for a warehouse.

Things had been wonderful for them up until seventeen months ago. Sebastian had lost his warehouse job due to downsizing, and decided to become a male escort to make quick money. Jim didn't like it, but knew Sebastian was stubborn and would do it anyway no matter what he said, so Sebastian signed up with a company whose clients were wealthier, upscale gentlemen. Jim thought that Sebastian would be safer instead of selling his body on the streets, but he was wrong.

Sebastian had a date lined up with a short, muscular blond in his early 40's, a financial broker. He'd never been with him before, and had gone to the Scarlet Hotel to meet him. Unfortunately, the client failed to disclose he was a mixed martial arts fighter with a taste for sadism, and brutalized Sebastian. The ex-soldier had put up a hell of a fight, and messed the guy up pretty good, but not before his "date" pulled out a butcher knife he'd hidden in his jacket and lodged it deep in Sebastian's spine, paralyzing him from the waist down and leaving him for dead.

The client, Zach Quinn, eventually collapsed in A&E, with a punctured lung, broken ribs, and a severed tendon. He recovered, but weeks later blew his brains out with a .22 caliber revolver inside his penthouse. His suffering was practically nil.

Sebastian ended up with severe depression, night terrors on top of his PTSD, and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. His Army pension, disability check, and a near million dollar payout from the escort service ensured his financial wellbeing, but not his psychological or emotional wellbeing. Sebastian refused any affection from Jim, tried to kill himself with an overdose of pain pills, and was eventually hospitalized for a month after a nervous breakdown.

But he slowly started to get better. With intense therapy, the night terrors weren't as frequent. He was on medication for his depression, and allowed Jim to take him outside every so often for fresh air, and sunshine, when London decided to give it up. They used some of the money to buy a large, first floor three bedroom flat near the financial district so Sebastian could come and go without hindrance. Jim converted one of the extra bedrooms into a personal gym, and Sebastian worked out every day, building his upper body strength back up. He was finally getting in a good place.

It was Jim that grew angrier, grew darker, grew murderous. He couldn't hunt down and kill the bastard who tried to ruin his lover's life, but he could strike out at those like him. Those short little blonds who looked and acted like the world revolved around them and could get away with anything. It was so easy to pretend to be a male escort and set up dates, and then he struck. He'd already done two, drugging them with GHB, torturing them slowly and painfully before finally ending their miserable lives with the sharp blade of a knife. By getting rid of them, he was doing what he wasn't able to over a year ago. A psychiatrist would label him as a homicidal maniac suffering from transference, but he wasn't crazy. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was making sure the man he loved more than anything would no longer suffer, and his mind could finally be at ease.

"Jimmy? You're awfully quiet," Sebastian murmured, breaking the silence and ending Jim's thoughts.

"Sorry love. Just silently musing." He pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"You're going to do it again aren't you? You're going to find Quinn. But he's dead," Sebastian whispered.

"Quinn may be six feet under, but there other other Quinns that need punishing. Don't you agree tiger?" Jim said softly, running a hand through Sebastian's hair.

"Yeah. Too many."

"Well then, I'm going to go and find him. But not today. I have an appointment with him Friday night. He answered my ad." He chuckled demonically. "He can never stay away. He's always ready to hurt others. But he's going to be the one hurting, and he'll pay, I promise you."

Jim stood up. "You hungry babe? I'll fix us lunch."

Sebastian nodded. "Yeah. We've got leftover takeaway in the fridge. I was waiting for you."

Jim kissed Sebastian again. "Well, lead the way to the kitchen tiger. Need to build my strength up for Friday."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is visually based on John Simm---I love that man!  
> Sebastian and Jim are both 28 years old.
> 
> Transference is a real psychological condition. Ted Bundy supposedly had it, killing women who resembled the girlfriend that dumped him. In this story, Jim is killing men who look like the one that attacked and paralyzed Sebastian. As you can see, I'm a huge crime buff and generally all the crime I've written in my fics are based on real-life cases.


	10. Freaky Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has lunch with Raquel and her husband and gets an invitation to join a veterans' support group. Jim finds another "date." Irene and Molly confront Sherlock over his visit to their office and getting John's info.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the dark turn things took last chapter (which was needed to set the backstory for the murder mystery), we're back into some familiar territory with John and him forming some much-needed friendships, and Irene and Molly being BAMFS with our drama queen detective!

John entered the coffee shop, smiling when he saw Raquel sitting in a booth in the corner with a very handsome, well-built black man next to her. He approached the couple. "Hi Raquel."

"John! It's good to see you!" Raquel greeted warmly. She motioned to the man beside her. "John, this is Luke, my husband. Luke honey, this is the guy I told you about I met at the ball."

John held out his hand. "Hi Luke, it's nice to meet you."

Luke shook John's hand heartily. "Hi John, nice to meet you too."

John took a seat in the opposite booth and looked Luke over. He was mostly bald except for some black fuzz on the top of his head. His features were angular, and he was sporting a neatly trimmed beard which had flecks of silver in it. He wore a navy blue long-sleeve thermal henley shirt and black jeans with white trainers.

Raquel was also dressed casually in a black moto jacket, white blouse, and blue jeans. Her long hair fell loose past her shoulders. She gave her husband's hand a squeeze. "It's a gorgeous day out there isn't it?"

John nodded. "It sure is. Rare for London."

Luke chuckled. "It is that. It seems every time I have to leave the house for doctor's appointments, or to the gym, or to my veterans' support group, it's raining." He peered at John with a hint of a smile. "So John, my wife told me all about you, and I find it fascinating you're using your military background being a dominator."

John winked at Raquel and turned back to her husband. "I didn't think I'd be doing what I'm doing. I thought I would be working in a hospital as a trauma surgeon, knee deep in blood, bone, body parts, rushing to save lives, and all that excitement." His face hardened slightly. "Then the bullet to my shoulder and the PTSD ended all of that."

Luke reached out across the table and gently grasped John's wrist. "Believe me, I know all about it. You feel useless, worthless, like your life's not meaningful anymore."

Before John could reply, a waitress came over to take orders. John hadn't had a chance to look at the menu but asked for a hot tea with honey and milk and a glass of ice water. Luke and Raquel both ordered iced tea with lemon, and the waitress told them she'd give them some time to look over their menus, and left to get their drinks.

John perused his choices. It was standard coffee shop/diner fare. He'd been spoiled with fancy meals at Belgravia's, and Asian takeaway; it had been a long time since he had a sandwich and chips. When the waitress returned, he ordered a chicken club. Luke ordered a hamburger and chips, and Raquel a cup of tomato soup and grilled cheese.

Once they selected their lunches, they quickly eased into pleasant small talk. John discussed his transition from invalidated veteran to dom, bragged about his daughter, and even mentioned his encounters with Sherlock, which had the couple cracking up.

Once the food was served and everyone was devouring it with gusto, Luke looked pointedly at John. "I think you should come to my veterans' support group. They're held every month right down the street in the old Milverton Building for an hour and a half. The next one is Monday at 10:30 in the morning. It's helped me a lot with coming to terms with my disability and I've found a really great group of friends. They're always looking for members."

"I'd love to Luke," John enthusiastically replied.

Luke grinned. "Great. How about we meet here and walk down together, and we can have lunch after it ends?"

"Sounds like a plan!" John said.

Raquel clapped her hands and beamed at the two men. "Oh, it's so wonderful to see you two becoming friends! John, you don't know how much this will mean to my husband." She leaned to Luke and gave him a peck on the cheek. Luke chuckled.

"Us veterans have to stick together," John told her. He held out his hand, and Luke took it, forming a firm handshake.

The three amicably parted ways, with John's mood even brighter than it was when he woke up this morning to see Evie standing by his bedside, with her arms out, wanting a hug and greeting him with a "goo morn Daddy."

*****

Sherlock entered the Leather & Lace office with a huge smirk on his face, which quickly disappeared when he saw a familiar brunette sitting at the reception desk with a smirk of her own. "Good morning Mr. Holmes."

"Hello Anthea, or whatever you're calling yourself this week," he huffed.

"Ah Sherlock, glad to see you," Irene cooed as she entered the office, descending from a white spiral staircase, fashionably dressed in a black leather pencil skirt, cream-colored cashmere crewneck sweater framed with a simple diamond pendant, and black Louboutin heels. Her long brown hair was swept up into a loose bun. Molly was right behind her, in charcoal gray dress slacks, a matching blazer, red silk blouse, and red pumps, her hair also up in a bun which was a little tighter.

"Hello Irene, Molly," Sherlock replied, trying to sound haughty.

"Spare us the arrogant attitude," Molly barked. "The main conference room, now."

Sherlock blinked his eyes, surprised at Molly's retort. She was generally not so harsh, leaving Irene to be the martinet.

A cheeky smile played at Irene's wine-colored lips. She loved it when Molly took charge. It was a big turn-on, and she was already contemplating a nice, "long lunch" with her lover and business partner.

Anthea continued to smirk as Sherlock followed the two women, looking like a little boy who got caught with his hand in the sweets dish.

Once all three were inside, Molly shut the door. "Sit," she ordered Sherlock, pointing to one of the chairs. Sherlock sighed dramatically and flopped down, crossing his long legs. 

Irene sat at the head of the table, and Molly sat next to her, across from Sherlock. Both women had cold looks on their pretty faces.

"You know why you're here, don't you," Irene stated, steel in her voice.

"Pointless," Sherlock drawled, looking at his fingernails.

Molly slammed her fist down on the table, causing both Sherlock and Irene to jump in their seats a little. "Don't take that bored tone with me _William_ ," she spat, knowing Sherlock hated being called by his first name, and she couldn't help but gloat at seeing him wince. "We're not going to have you compromise our new employee with your ridiculous obsession."

"Shouldn't you be having this conversation with Janine? She has a ridiculous obsession too---for me," Sherlock evenly countered.

"We've already spoken with Janine, and she was very apologetic about how you manipulated her into giving out John's personal information," Irene replied, just as even.

Sherlock snorted. "Did she tell you she made sexual advances to me even though she's sleeping with Billy Wiggins?"

"We know Janine is clearly infatuated with you. God knows why," Molly said, rolling her eyes. "But she decided to take some leave, which we readily granted."

"And so you call in my fat git of a brother's Girl Friday as her replacement," Sherlock bit.

"We didn't have to call her in. Mycroft offered her services, and she's extremely efficient, and she can deal with unruly customers...not to mention an overgrown toddler of a detective with a raging drug habit and military kink," Irene stated matter-of-fact.

Sherlock huffed and looked away, his lips in a full pout. "I should have never introduced you to Piecroft."

Irene chuckled darkly. "Well, it was a very fun evening with him and his silver fox of a husband."

Sherlock groaned. "I don't need to know about my brother and his husband's sexual antics."

"No, but you need to know the safety of our employees is very important. You have a habit of being careless and getting involved with shady characters Sherlock.  John is the best thing to happen to Leather and Lace in a long time. With that murderer on the loose---a murderer going after men who look like John, it's imperative that he is safe while out on his appointments. If someone got his address and phone number that had the worst of intentions, well, you can imagine the terrible things that may happen." Irene grimly brought up.

Sherlock's face fell. He couldn't let anything bad happen to John, his beautiful blond soldier he vowed to protect. He looked down at his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Wow, that's something you don't hear everyday," Molly quietly mused.

"I hope this little meeting made you realize your actions sometimes are a bit not good, "Irene gently chided.

Sherlock nodded. "It won't happen again, I promise. The last thing I want is for John to be harmed."

"Us too," Molly agreed.

"I think this meeting can be adjourned." Irene stood up, with Molly joining her.

Sherlock stood up, and without a word, bolted from the room. The two women couldn't help but laugh. "Think we scared him enough to keep him from being stupid when it comes to John?" Molly asked.

Irene planted a smooch on Molly's lips. "No. Sherlock does what Sherlock wants---as well he does _whom_ he wants. I don't think he'll stop pursuing John, but I think he'll be more careful and stealthy about it."

"We need to tell John next time we see him, so he doesn't think he has a mad stalker after him."

Irene nodded. "And with these murders, we'll have to ask him to be careful when it comes to taking on new clients. We can't afford to lose him love. He's really rejuvenated the business, and he's also just a great guy in general."

Molly linked her arms with Irene's. "How about lunch? My treat."

Irene kissed her again. "Sounds wonderful darling. Let's go."

*****

John found himself without a client this evening. He was supposed to entertain a well-respected member of The Diogenes Club at one of the private suites, but he got called into an emergency shareholder meeting that would last several hours. John understood, and rescheduled him for the following Friday at five o'clock. He was now free to spend the evening with Evie. He'd picked her up from nursery and stopped in to get a to-go meal from KFC, which he pretty much avoided, but Evie had been asking for chicken nuggets, and they did serve green beans, so she would at least be getting a vegetable. The little girl was utterly delighted, happily exclaiming "chick nugs!" to her daddy, who couldn't help but smile. Mary would have been proud at the way she was beginning to talk more, combining words, even if most of them were just partial words.

At their flat, John had settled Evie down on the floor with her favorite blanket and stuffed animal, and she ate her nuggets, green beans, and milk while watching one of her favorite channels. It was just an image of fish in a fishbowl, set to music, but it kept her entertained for a long time. The music was soothing to John, and it helped him unwind. He sat on the couch, eating his chicken breast meal, in a state of peaceful relaxation.

He gave Evie a bath, and after several bedtime stories, she was fast asleep. John took the rest of the night checking his emails, setting up a few appointments, and took a quick shower before heading to bed himself. Tomorrow, he and Evie were going to a children's museum, and then Evie would be at the neighbor's for the evening while he was at dinner with Victor.

Before he turned out the light, John fired off a quick text to Victor, hoping he had a good night and he was looking forward to dinner tomorrow. Victor texted back within minutes, saying he did, and he was also looking forward to tomorrow. And with that, another successful weekday for John had come to a close.

*****

Jim softly kissed Sebastian on the lips as he slept, then he closed the bedroom door. It had been a good day for his boyfriend, and Sebastian had retired early, after a dinner of takeaway Thai and a quick workout, before going to bed and settling in with a book on Vietnam. 

Jim though, had things to do. He lay on the sofa, laptop resting on his thighs, checking his Craigslist messages. He'd gotten many responses for his request for anonymous hookups in London, but he was searching for a certain customer. 

After a few minutes, he found him. He was a handsome blond. He was young, but Jim just pictured Quinn as a uni student, arrogant and pushing others around. No, age didn't matter. He'd do nicely. 

But then he saw the man had written he'd ended a rather abusive relationship with an older coworker, and just wanted a casual one nighter. Jim frowned when he read the words abusive relationship. He wasn't the aggressor. Jim couldn't hurt him if he'd had been hurt. He decided not to contact him. He would live and hopefully find someone else who would be kind and loving to him.

He continued perusing his inbox until he landed on another blond. This one was older, and had a self-assured smirk on his face. Jim could tell he was a fake blond, but it didn't matter. The cocky grin was all Zach Quinn. 

The man wrote he was now single after a difficult fling with a younger man, and was ready to have fun again. He dyed his hair, wanting to see if blondes really had more fun. He called himself Gray, bragged about being well off, and was into BDSM and rough sex.

Jim grinned evilly as he clicked to reply to him, asking him if he would be up for a date very soon, promising a night he'd never forget.

He turned off his laptop, closed it shut, and headed off to bed. As he wrapped his arms around Sebastian, he tenderly whispered into his ear "I've found him again Sebby, no need to worry."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke is based off Idris Elba.
> 
> Also, it's a good thing Martin Freeman isn't reading this, as he sent a letter to KFC regarding the treatment of their chickens, and I have John eating it!


	11. Going on Hiatus

With the holidays coming up I'm going to take a short hiatus and resume the story after Christmas. Happy Holidays!


	12. Dinner and a Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Victor have their dinner date and Victor's plans of seducing The Captain are cockblocked in a most hilarious way. And in another part of London, Jim claims his latest victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I'm back to resume the story. It's been a little rough getting back into the swing of writing. Updates will not be fast and frequent---you've been warned!

"Thanks so much Mrs. Doyle, I really appreciate it."

"No problem John, have fun on your date. Evie is such a good little thing."

John had handed off his freshly bathed and changed daughter to his neighbor who would be minding her while John was out to dinner with Victor. The handsome photographer would be picking him up soon. 

"She is. I'll be here first thing in the morning to pick her up. Goodnight Mrs. Doyle. Goodnight baby girl. I love you." John placed a soft kiss to Evie's rosy cheek, and she giggled happily. "Night-night Daddy," she said.

John waved at the two ladies, and went back to his flat to wait for Victor, putting on his brown leather jacket. John had decided to keep things more casual, wearing a maroon jumper over a plaid shirt, paired with dark wash jeans and comfy brown loafers. It was a far cry from his Captain outfits, but John lived for cozy jumpers and well-worn trousers, especially after a day of dominating clients in heavy combat boots and camouflage that sometimes wasn't the most comfortable.

Seconds later there was a knock at John's door. Smiling, the former soldier opened it to see Victor, snazzily dressed in a black suit jacket, black button down, and jeans with black loafers. "Hi John. You look handsome."

John grinned appreciatively. "So do you. Like you stepped right out of GQ."

"I try my best. So, shall we be off?"

"Definitely, I'm starving."

*****

The Jeweled Elephant was a cozy Indian bistro, and the dinner rush had just ended, leaving a handful of patrons, mostly twenty-somethings, at tables enjoying a late meal. John and Victor were seated at a table against the wall in the back of the restaurant, which was decorated to look like the inside of a Sultan prince's bedroom imagined in a Hollywood movie. No one was complaining, as the rich, jeweled tones of gold, red and purple added a pleasant and welcoming atmosphere.

The two men were enjoying a bottle of wine and waiting for their meals, making comfortable small talk. John was telling Victor about his day with Evie at the children's museum, and how the little girl loved the hands-on displays.

"Her favorite part was being able to climb all over the fake dinosaurs. I got a lot of good pictures." John pulled out his phone to show Victor. 

Victor chuckled. "She's adorable."

"She really looks like her mom. Mary would be proud and happy to see her thriving like this." John looked down into his wine glass and drew out a shaky breath. "Some days, it's hard, you know? I've gotten better at not constantly mourning her, but sometimes I look at Evie, and I start remembering the good times the three of us had."

Victor reached out to put his hand on top of John's, not saying anything, but letting the other man know he was there for him.

John looked back up and smiled. "I'm lucky to have what we did. I certainly wouldn't be able to do what I'm doing now as a married father. And to be honest, my new life is bringing me a lot more excitement and fulfillment. I know that's terrible. It's like I'm trashing Mary's memory---"

"It's okay John. It's okay to be selfish sometimes, and focus on your needs and desires. And aren't you doing this so you'll be financially secure and providing for your daughter?" Victor gently interrupted.

John nodded profusely. "Yes. It's not about pleasantly torturing people, it's about caring for Evie. One day, I won't be doing this. I'll go back to being a doctor in a clinic somewhere. But for now, I'm sowing my oats I never sewed when I was younger. I'm reliving my twenties now, and enjoying it immensely."

Victor squeezed John's hand. "Good. You have to get out and enjoy life once in a while."

The waiter arrived with two plates, tandoori chicken for John, and fried curried Bombay Duck for Victor. The men dived into their plates with gusto, humming in appreciation at the spicy flavor. 

Once they were done, they each nixed dessert and polished off the bottle of wine. Victor wanted to pay for the entire meal, but John insisted they split the bill in half. He had money now, and could afford a decent dinner more often.

*****

"On our next date, I'm treating you John, so no arguments," Victor said as they left the restaurant.

John chuckled cheekily. "Next date huh? You planning on making this a regular thing?"

Victor smirked and leaned into John. "Most definitely, if that's how you want it."

John shivered, and he felt his tongue come out to lick his lips. Ever since he was a young boy, when he was nervous, or anxious, or excited, he would lick his lips. It was instinct, and the motion had caused quite a reaction in several smitten classmates, and even a few of his Army comrades.

He closed his eyes, and he could feel and smell Victor's breath hovering over his lips. It smelled of curry and cooking oil and wine. He felt two strong, warm hands on his shoulders. As John was anticipating Victor's kiss,  he shivered again, and then---

A loud crash, followed by a gruff male voice yelling out "Goddammit Sherlock!" interrupted the romantic moment. John's eyes snapped open, and he inwardly groaned at hearing Sherlock's name. The crazy git had followed him again! He was going to need a bodyguard if this kept up.

John and Victor turned towards the sound, and saw a handsome grey-haired man wearing a white shirt that had a picture of a Dalek on it paired with distressed blue jeans roughly pull up Sherlock, who was sprawled on the ground, clad in a plum colored long-sleeved bodycon dress, black stiletto heels, a black leather jacket, and wearing a long, curly ginger wig. His handsome face was made up, and John couldn't help but notice that Sherlock looked pretty gorgeous in drag.

"Jesus, that's Sherlock Holmes!" Victor quietly exclaimed, shaking his head, watching the trainwreck and trying not to bust out laughing. "Come on, let's get out of here before he spots us."

The two rounded the corner, giving into the laughter they'd held back. 

"You know that nutter?" John asked, once he was able to speak.

"Yeah. He came in to my studio last year. He booked a photo session. He said it was for a birthday present. He came dressed in this really expensive bespoke black and Italian loafers. Then he proceeded to take that suit off, and he was wearing a black lace thong. He had a duffel bag with him, and in that bag was those same black heels, and a huge red dildo."

John's dark eyes blew wide open. "Oh my God! What did you do?"

"I took the pictures.  I do offer softcore portraits for those that want to surprise their spouse or partner, so I figured he was going to give the pictures to his lover."

"But the dildo..." John murmured, before stopping in disbelief.

"He didn't use the dildo - I told him he could pose with it, but nothing graphic. I could get shut down and be charged with pornography. The shoot went rather well, and he's really photogenic. After he paid me, I told him his significant other would be very pleased with the results. He narrowed his eyes, shot me a look as if I were the biggest idiot on earth, and replied, and I kid you not, 'I don't have a significant other, I don't do relationships. I'm sending them to my fat, meddling arse of a brother, and hopefully these pictures will get him out of my life once and for all."

John nearly fell to the ground, and started laughing again. "Oh damn! What a loon!"

Victor giggled. "Yeah, but that's not the weirdest part. A week later, I got a visit from this intense-looking woman who called herself Anthea, claimed she worked for his brother, and demanded I hand over the negatives from Sherlock's session. I tried to hold my ground, but she threatened to have me shut down, so I had no choice. His brother works for the government, so you know it would have been one hell of a scandal if those pictures were ever made public."

John held his stomach, it was hurting from laughing so much. "That is the craziest story I ever heard."

"Hey, I made pretty damn good money from it, that's all that matters."

John bust out laughing again. "I haven't had this much fun on a date since my first date with Mary."

"Well, it certainly ended on a entertaining note." Victor grinned at John. "You know, I was going to kiss you before we were so rudely interrupted."

"I know. Still wanna do it?" John asked.

"Oh yeah." Victor leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to John's lips. Once they parted, John sighed and smiled. "That was lovely."

"Look John, I know this is our first date, and I shouldn't be so forward..." Victor began.

"I'm sorry Victor, but I'm really not ready to move things in that direction so soon," John said.

Victor nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Maybe after a few more dates?" John asked with a hopeful tone.

"Definitely. I really enjoyed your company."

"Me too." John pecked Victor on the cheek. "Have a good night. Give me a call tomorrow, maybe we can do a late lunch?"

"I'd like that. I'll call you tomorrow. Goodnight John."

Victor kissed John again, and the two went their separate ways, bubbling with happiness.

***** 

Sherlock sat in the passenger seat of Greg's car, scowling furiously, his wig clutched in his lap. Trust his annoying nanny of a brother-in-law to follow him while he followed John. And it wasn't even planned. He was going out to a club, deliberately dressed as a woman, to see how many of the patrons could figure out he was a man in drag. And if he happened to score some decent drugs while doing it, even better. He was sure he could fool his overbearing brother's CCTV.

However, it was Greg who instantly recognized him while picking up takeaway from The Jeweled Elephant, and ruined his night of fun. 

"You're coming back to my house, where Myc and I can keep our eyes on you. I've warned you to stop pulling this crazy shit, but you refuse to listen," Greg barked.

"I don't need you or Piecroft to babysit me, don't you have your own jobs to worry about? Granted, you can barely do your job without my assistance---"

"You don't need a babysitter Sherlock, you need a whole damn nursery crew to chase after you. And I've had it up to here with your insults about my career competence. One more smartass remark, and you are no longer assisting me on this serial killer case. Understood?"

Sherlock just huffed, crossed his arms, and turned his head to the side. Greg grunted and started up the car. "It's time for you to grow up Sherlock and start taking care of yourself. I know you don't like lectures, but I say this because I care, as your brother-in-law and your friend. Despite you being an arrogant prick 99.9% of the time, you have the qualities to be a great man. You could even be a good man, but you've got to stop taking so many risks."

Sherlock continued to stay silent, but he processed Greg's words. He didn't want to be kicked off the serial killer case, and he wanted to be around if he had hope of pursuing John properly. There weren't too many important things in his life, but the things he considered important he couldn't lose.

*****

Mrs. Doyle was surprised to see John back early, but after hearing what happened after his dinner date, she was doubled over in stitches with laughter. It was a crazy and hilarious story, even if it involved John being stalked by Sherlock. But John didn't think he was in any danger anymore, and deep down a part of him felt a little flattered an attractive, slightly younger man thought he was interesting enough to follow. However, he had to nip it in the bud. Irene and Molly weren't amused at Sherlock's antics, and he didn't want to jeopardize his new job. He was going to have to pay a visit to Sherlock and tell him to stop following him around town.

*****

John was back in his flat, Evie was sound asleep in her crib. He poured himself a small tumbler of scotch and eased himself onto his couch with his laptop, checking emails. He had tomorrow off, but Monday was a jam-packed day. He was going to the veteran's support group with Luke, followed by lunch with his new friend, then he had two appointments with clients, before picking Evie up from nursery and settling into their nighttime routine. 

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up from the coffee table. It was a text from Victor, wishing him goodnight, and asking him if he had a suggestion for their lunch date tomorrow. John thought about it for a bit, then texted him back, asking if they could go somewhere near Regent's Park. It was supposed to be another nice day, and he wouldn't mind a stroll through the park. Victor readily agreed in his text, and told John he'd pick him up around one-thirty.

John went to bed that night with a content stomach and and even more content mind, thinking life couldn't get any better. Unfortunately for another blond, his life was about to come to a violent end.

*****

 The man was incapacitated on the bed, completely naked, a ball gag jammed in his mouth. He'd taken it out of his pocket, and smirked knowingly at Jim. "I can't wait to shove this in your mouth," he'd said, with a hint of pompousness.

The fake blond who called himself Gray was a smarmy, self-righteous bastard who'd bragged to Jim about his last two relationships, mocking his exes and their demands that they not be treated so roughly. Jim had wanted to vomit all over the smug creep, but he had to stay in control if he wanted to finish the job. So he played the role of submissive perfectly, serving Gray a drink he'd laced with GHB. Gray downed it in one gulp, and within thirty minutes, he was in la-la-land, giving Jim all access. He'd stripped him, got him on the bed, and stuffed the gag in his mouth. 

Jim snapped a few pics with his phone to show Sebastian later. That another Quinn was gone, and his tiger would be safe once more.

With a broad eerie smile on his face, Jim pulled out his scalpel, bent over the unconscious man, and began to slice through the fake bronze of flesh that covered his throat, humming one of his favorite songs, "Staying Alive." Well, this poor sap wouldn't be staying alive for long. And when the bright crimson red blood began to ooze from the deep cut, Jim grinned even harder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor didn't recognize Sherlock in his Fifth Estate outfit a few chapters back, but recognized Sherlock here because of the heels, and Sherlock was right in front of the restaurant this time as opposed to across the street last time.


	13. Just Another Manic Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's presence at the veterans' group unwittingly sets him up for danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short, character-driven chapter focusing on the friendship between John and Luke.

John was sitting at his kitchen table, enjoying a cup of tea and a plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage. Little Evie was sitting in a booster seat, feeding herself bites of banana, a sippie cup of apple juice mixed with water in reach. The radio was on, and John was listening to the morning news broadcast. A front was coming in tonight, bringing heavy rain after seven-thirty. John thanked his lucky stars he would be home before the deluge began.

John's phone buzzed. He looked down and saw it was a text from Luke. _Still on for the meeting this morning?_ it read.

John smiled and answered. **Definitely. Still on for lunch this afternoon?**

 _Hell yeah_ , was Luke's reply. John laughed softly. 

 _I'll see you at the coffee shop at 10:15. Is it okay if we go back there for lunch?_ Luke typed.

 **Fine with me. I'll see you in a bit!** John replied.

John glanced over at his daughter and grinned when he saw she ate all of her bananas. "Nanas goo Daddy," she told him happily before picking up her cup of diluted juice and taking a drink.

John stood up, affectionately ruffled Evie's golden curls, and turned off the radio. He started to clean up the breakfast dishes so he wouldn't have to wash them when he got back home.

Mrs. Doyle had offered to watch Evie today, so he didn't have to rush to take her to nursery. His neighbor had taken off work to be with her oldest daughter, who was in hospital for emergency gall bladder surgery. She was nicely recovering, so Mrs. Doyle decided to hold off a visit until tomorrow. 

Evie had signaled she was done with her drink, so John took the cup and washed it out, placing it aside with the other drying dishes. He scooped her up, which caused her to giggle and squeal. "Up Daddy up!" she told him.

"Bathtime for you little one, and then you're going to spend the day with Mrs. Doyle. She's going to take you shopping with her while Daddy runs his errands," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Evie replied with another giggle as John carried her to the bathroom.

*****

"Hey John!" Luke called happily as the short blond doctor was in his sight.

"Hi Luke. How was your weekend?"

The two men shook hands heartily. "Pretty good. Raquel met up with some girlfriends for one of those shopping and lunch dos on Saturday, and a buddy of mine came and got me and we had lunch in a pub near Regent's Park, then we just hung out at the park people watching. Sunday was our day of rest, just stayed in. How about you?"

"It was great. I took my daughter to the children's museum, had dinner with a friend on Saturday, and yesterday I met up with him again for lunch at Regent's."

Luke gave him a coy smile. "Sounds like more than friend."

John couldn't help but blush. "Well, he may end up being that, but we're taking things a little slow for now. It just feels good to get out and test the waters after dealing with being a widower for a while."

"Yeah, if it weren't for my wife, my friends, and this veterans' group, I'd probably be in a mental hospital. Come on, let's start heading there. I think you'll really like it," Luke answered.

The two men fell into comfortable silence as they headed towards the building where the meeting was held. It was a nondescript gray stone structure at the end of the street on the corner. There were two front doors, with a sign in silver lettering that read Milverton Building, and beneath it, the names of the businesses and suite numbers. It held an insurance company, a general practitioner's office (John filed that away for the future), an agency for senior citizens, and a workforce agency where people could do internet searches for jobs and attend workshops. 

"We meet in the basement. There are classrooms and conference rooms down there," Luke explained.

John nodded and opened the door. Several smells hit him at once which reminded him of his old job at the lab: freshly made copies, industrial cleaning products, and coffee. He didn't miss that combination of odors one bit.

"The stairs to the basement is at the end of the hall, unless you want to take the elevator," Luke said.

"Nah, let's do stairs. It'll help keep me in shape," John replied.

The two men bounded down the two flights of steps, painted in basic beige. When they got to the bottom, Luke motioned for John to follow him to the left. "We meet in Room 104."

When they entered the room, a few men were sitting at desks, chatting among each other. "Hey guys," Luke greeted them warmly. "I brought a new friend to join us. His name's John Watson, and he's a former Army captain."

John smiled and waved. "Hello," he said.

"Hi John," one of the men said, standing up. He was tall, stocky, with grayish brown hair, brown eyes, and a sharp nose. He wore a T-shirt that said "Retired...don't ask me to a damn thing" and jeans. "Name's Lee Chesterson, former Major, Operation Desert Storm." He held out his hand for John to shake.

"Afghanistan, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," John responded.

"The young buck in the back is Bryan Nash. We call him Romeo because all the ladies love him," Lee joked, pointing a thumb at a good-looking strawberry blond in his late twenties dressed in a plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. 

John laughed. "Good to meet you Bryan."

"You too Captain," Bryan said with a wink.

"And I'm Noah Hardesty, the old man of the group, did time in 'Nam in '70," a shorter, chubbier man piped up, waving at John. He reminded John of Mike Stamford, as he had dark hair, but was balding, and wore glasses.

"Pleasure meeting you all," John said.

"Have a seat John. We're just waiting for the last member to show up. It takes him a little more time because he's in a wheelchair," Lee told him.

John sat down next to Noah, and Luke sat down beside John. The group fell back into talking, and a few minutes later, the last of the veterans' group entered the room.

"Well Happy Monday Tiger!" Lee said enthusiastically. "Luke brought his friend, he served in Afghanistan just like you, I think you two will have a lot to talk about." He motioned towards John. "John Watson, meet Sebastian Moran."

"Nice to meet you," John replied brightly.

Sebastian gazed at John, and fought back a tremor. He looked just like Zach Quinn. 

No, no, no, no! He couldn't lose it, not here, not with his friends, the men who knew what it was like to be in the thick of hell day in and day out. But this John Watson couldn't be like Quinn. He was a veteran too, and friends with Luke. He couldn't be sadistic and vicious like the Quinn who brutally attacked him and left him for dead. 

"Sebastian, are you okay?" Lee asked, growing concerned?

"Uh yeah, I'm okay. It's just that John looks like someone I used to know," Sebastian said softly, tightly folding his hands in his lap.

"I have a lot of lookalikes, all short, plain, and graying," John replied with a chuckle.

Sebastian took notice of John's remark over his looks. He wasn't arrogant. He seemed very friendly. Sebastian decided to watch John closely to see if appearance was the only thing he shared with Quinn.

"Okay vets, let's get this gathering in gear," Lee announced, as the de-facto leader of the group.

Sebastian wheeled himself directly across from John, eagerly anticipating his words and actions.

*****

 "I feel so bad for Sebastian," John told Luke as the two entered the coffee shop, taking a booth close to the back next to a window, where the two could look out onto the street. Luke had filled him in on what had happened to the ex-soldier.

"He's had a very rough time of it, trying to cope with what that bastard did to him. If it wasn't for his boyfriend...I don't even want to think about it." Luke suppressed a shudder.

"The expression on his face when I revealed that I was a dominator...he looked angry and disapproving. I think he was mentally comparing me to the guy that attacked him."

"I did see that. Sebastian's told us in previous meetings Zach Quinn was short, but muscular and blond. It sounds like a psychological thing---everytime he sees a guy that resembles Quinn, he believes that person is him, even though Quinn committed suicide shortly after attacking Sebastian," Luke explained.

"Transference," John quietly remarked.

"Huh?" Luke asked, confused.

"Oh sorry. I was remembering something from my abnormal psych class from back when I was in uni. We did a short study on serial killers, and the professor discussed some serial killers choose victims because they looked like someone from their past who hurt them in some way. It's called transference because they "transfer" their rage they have towards that specific person to their victims."

"So, when they're killing their victim, they think they're killing that other person," Luke surmised.

John nodded. "Exactly. But sometimes transference doesn't have to end up in murder. They could just avoid the lookalikes, or develop prejudices. I read about a woman that was raped by a blond haired, blue-eyed man, and the trauma caused her to associate all blond men with her rapist, and from then on she only talked to or dated dark-haired men that didn't have blue eyes."

Luke's eyes widened. "Man, it's bloody weird how peoples' minds work," he commented.

"I know. I just hope Sebastian is rational enough to realize I'm not this Quinn person, and I could never be like him and purposefully hurt and maim someone."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about John. The more Sebastian sees you and and hears you, he'll quickly realize what a great guy you are," Luke affirmed.

A waitress came to their table to get their orders. John got the vegetable soup and turkey club lunch special, and Luke chose fish and chips. Both men ordered hot tea and water.

"Will you continue to come to the meetings John? The guys really liked you, and I think Sebastian will come around," Luke asked once they were done placing their orders.

"I'll come, unless I get a client who wants a morning appointment, or Evie can't go to nursery. It was nice being around guys who share similar experiences, know what you go through with the nightmares and the triggers that set off your PTSD." 

"Good. Raquel is thrilled too." Luke laughed and shook his head. "My parents looked at me like I grew another head when I told them I asked her to marry me. They were not expecting an energetic Spanish bombshell, that's for sure. But she won them over, especially after I had a really bad night. I'd had one hell of a nightmare, it was so violent, I ended up on the floor with a concussion. Raquel, being a nurse at the time, took charge and made sure I was stable until the paramedics arrived. I was bloody awful as they tried to get me into the ambulance, but Raquel calmed me down and told them I was a vet and suffering from extreme PTSD. She's dealt with patients who've had those kinds of episodes, it didn't scare her one bit. I fell even more in love with her after that night, and my parents realized she was going to be good for me."

John smiled. "That's great."

"Yeah, and my parents love her to pieces. She was very hesitant when she had to tell them she'd quit her nursing job and became a dominatrix, but they took it in stride. They knew she was burnt out, ready for a change, and wanted a job where she could set her own hours and be with me at home more often. It was also very easy to accept once the money started coming in. Now, none of us are greedy and gold-diggers, but what she makes in these visits, we're living very comfortably, and she purchased a one-story flat for Mum and Dad. Both are up there in years and can't move like they used to. If it's improved our quality of life, who cares that she's smacking bottoms and giving old dudes sponge baths?"

John laughed heartily. "Your parents sound like really cool people."

"They are. Mum was only sixteen when she married Dad. But she knew he was the one, and she was it for him."

"When I was sixteen I was playing rugby and dated three girls in one year," John replied with a sigh.

"No guys? I mean, I know you're casually Victor, the photographer..." Luke began.

"I hadn't officially come out as bi then. My father is homophobic, and gave my sister such grief when she came out as a lesbian, she moved to California and hasn't looked back."

"Do you still have a relationship with your dad?" Luke wanted to know.

"Only because of Evie. And it's not a particularly close one, but I email him pictures of her, and from time to time he calls me and lets me know what's going on. Most of it is ranting about this group or that group, especially gays. It's like dealing with Archie Bunker."

The food and drinks arrived, and John and Luke were ready to enjoy their meals. 

*****

Jim was in his kitchen, making Sebastian a peanut butter and chocolate smoothie. Sebastian had come home from his veterans' support group, worked up over a new member that came with his friend Luke. The man, John Watson, looked a lot like Quinn, but Sebastian had said he was soft spoken, funny, and the other guys really liked him. Sebastian also said that John was a dominator and dressing in fatigues, making good money tying up other men and sometimes women, and treating them like they were Army privates, but he was doing it to support his daughter.

Sebastian had calmed himself down and said that he didn't feel scared or agitated around John anymore and if the other guys liked him, he was okay. Jim was still on edge. He'd have to check out this John Watson for himself. But for now, if Sebastian was comfortable, then Jim would let John live. 

A few seconds later, Sebastian wheeled himself into the kitchen. "Hey Jimmy."

"I have your smoothie Tiger." Jim poured the drink into a tall glass and handed it to his mate. "Thanks," Sebastian said, taking a long drink. "Mmm, yummy."

"Just the thing after a good workout." Jim gazed intensely at his boyfriend. "Are you sure this John is okay Sebby?"

Sebastian nodded. "He's cool for now. I think he could sense my anxiety at first, so he really didn't attempt to make any conversation with me, only to say goodbye when the meeting ended. And he isn't going to male escorts, he's a dom."

"Yes, but there's a chance his work life could spill into his personal one, and he'll start hurting people," Jim countered.

"Nah, I don't think so Jimmy. He's got a little girl, and he talked a lot about how violent his dad was when he was younger. He got some pretty bad beatings, and his dad is a homophobe. He's been hurt, just like me."

Jim processed Sebastian's words. "Still, I want to see this man for myself."

"Okay Jimmy. You're the boss." Sebastian finished his smoothie in several gulps then sat the glass down on the small island countertop. "Thanks love, that was delicious. I'm gonna take a shower and get a nap."

Jim leaned down to give him a kiss. "You need me to help you onto your bath chair?"

Sebastian shook his head. "No, I can do it. I'm getting stronger and stronger all the time."

Jim smiled. He was getting stronger, at least physically, and he was getting some of his independence back. He'd decided to take the bus on his own to the meeting instead of Jim driving him, and came back home on the bus too.

"I love you tiger. Have a good rest."

Sebastian smiled and left the kitchen, heading for their specially converted shower, which was big enough for Sebastian to wheel himself inside. It had a wide bath seat so he could easily transfer to it from his wheelchair, and vice versa.

Jim poured himself a glass of chardonnay and sat down at the island, closing his eyes, mentally replaying the murder of Gray from Friday, grinning broadly as he remembered the image of the man's red blood seeping out of his slit throat. 

One down, so many more to go. And if this John Watson slipped up, he'd be one of the many.

 

 

 


	14. When it Rains It Pours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John spends a rainy day in London helping one man and is about to confront another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that my birthday celebrations are over with, here's a new chapter!

Rain poured over London as Irene and Molly lay in their spacious king bed, watching BBC News. Murder was the top story of the morning.

"The body of a man was found late last night, and police believe he is the third in a series of sex slayings that has been plaguing London for weeks. The dead man has been identified as thirty-nine year-old Grayson Ashcroft, a financial broker who lived on Harley Street. The victim was found by his housekeeper earlier this morning as she reported for work. Ashcroft was on his bed, nude, with his throat slashed. Police also suspect he was drugged, like the earlier victims...."

Irene clicked off the TV and turned to look at her lover and business partner, her pretty face ashen. "This is getting scary Molly. I'm worried for John. All these victims resemble John."

Molly put a comforting arm around Irene. "It's disturbing, but so far all the men murdered were going to escorts, not working as one. John may be safe in that respect."

Irene cuddled closer to Molly, her chin hooked over Molly's shoulder. "Still, we should ensure John's safety. I know this sounds crass, but he's done wonders for Leather and Lace and I don't want to see anything happen to him. And he's a genuinely nice guy. There aren't too many of them around."

She picked up her phone which lay on the nightstand and after a few clicks, had John's appointments displayed. "His first visit is with Warren Raymond today at eleven, and then he's got one more at two o' clock."

"We'll have him check in during his break, we can call him," Molly suggested.

"Yes, that will make me feel a whole lot better." Irene put her phone to sleep and set it back on the nightstand. She wrapped her arms around Molly and softly kissed her. "Unfortunately we can't stay here all day. We've got a business to run." Her lips formed into a playful smirk. "But, we do have an hour. What should we do to pass the time?"

Molly chuckled. "I think I have a pretty good idea." 

Seconds later, she squealed as Irene pushed her down into the mattress, covering her with kisses.

*****

John was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of camouflage shorts, socks, and combat boots. He was covered in sweat, and furiously flogging Warren's back and buttocks with a riding crop. Warren was blindfolded, his lips open, silently reacting to the painful smacks, his body twitching with pleasure, and he was rock hard.

When John had arrived for their session, Warren was crying.  John immediately approached him, gently asking what was wrong, and Warren had told him he'd heard on the news his ex, Gray, had been murdered. 

"I shouldn't even cry over that jerk after the things he did to me, but I did love him once and I can't believe he would go like that...I got a call from Cole, the intern he left me for. He apologized to me for the affair and told me that Gray started being violent towards him too and he left him, left the company, and moved to Brighton to move on and get his life back together. He told me that during an argument, one they had before they broke up for good, he told Gray he wouldn't be surprised if he went too far and ended up dead. Cole felt so guilty. I told him it wasn't his fault."

Warren had looked at John with intense ferocity. "I want you to make me forget Gray John. Just for a little while. I want roughness. I want everything you can give me."

And so here John was forty-five minutes later, giving Warren all the pain the man could stand, helping him temporarily erase the memory of his ex-lover. And Warren was taking it with such strength.

John saw Warren's behind was extremely red and on the verge of rawness, so he stopped, putting the riding crop on the bed, and letting out a huge breath. "I'm going to take care of you now soldier. Lie still," John commanded. 

John retrieved some ointment from his bag and began to apply it to Warren's abused arse. Warren softly moaned. "Feels good sir," he quietly said, but remained still.

John grinned as he continued to massage Warren's arse. "Excellent soldier. Keep still for me."

Once Warren's rear was fully covered in the ointment, John gently pulled the other man to a standing position, keeping the blindfold on. He picked up the riding crop and began to stroke Warren's erect member, which twitched responsively to the touch. Warren's mouth dropped open in a silent O.

"Very good soldier. Keep still and quiet until you're ready to come, and you let me know," John ordered.

John grabbed Warren's shoulder with his right hand and squeezed down while continuing to stroke, his movements picking up speed. Warren began to shudder, lips now tightly pursed. John's own cock began to harden and twitch while pleasuring Warren, but he put it out of mind. He would take care of himself later.

"Sir, it won't be long sir. I'm going to come," Warren spoke roughly.

John glanced down at Warren's cock, which was flushed and swollen. He stroked it even faster, the hand on his shoulder moving down to Warren's left nipple. He twisted the nub, and dropped the crop, taking Warren in hand. Soon the man was coming, exploding all over John's hand as he shouted "Sir!"

"At ease soldier, at ease. "You were perfect. Take your blindfold off and take a few minutes to relax." As Warren removed his blindfold, taking deep calming breaths, John went to the master bathroom to clean himself off and splash some cold water on his face. It had been an intense session, but very worthwhile and satisfying. It wasn't just Warren who got the release he needed. John always felt much more relaxed after domming, the day-to-day stresses leaving his body like a butterfly breaking out of its cocoon.

Warren appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, wearing a dressing gown and smiling for the first time since John entered his flat. "If you need to take a shower, it's all yours."

"Thanks mate, I appreciate it. My next client isn't until two, but I'm meeting Victor for lunch and I don't want to smell like a locker room."

"I have a lunch date with my guy too, one-thirty. He's closing his office early due to patient cancellations. Many of them for some reason don't want to come out in the rain. I can't blame them."

"Well, you guys have a great rest of the afternoon. After my two o'clock, it's back to Irene and Molly's for office work, but I don't mind. I love keeping busy." John wiped his forehead and exhaled.

"Well, that's my cue to leave you to your shower. Turn the knob to the left for hot water," Warren said, motioning to the shower. 

"You gonna be okay?" John asked, peering into his green eyes.

Warren nodded. "I'll be fine. You really made me feel a lot better. Hard to believe I can find comfort in being flogged to bloody hell, but trust me, it was just what I needed. But don't worry, my mate will take care of me today in other ways." He grinned and winked at John, who chuckled.

"I'll have your check ready for you when you're done, and we'll book the next session. I have some time coming up at work, going to take a three week holiday."

"Lucky you Warren, but you deserve it. "I'll only be a tic," John told him.

John's shower was warm and refreshing, and he felt a little guilty for having a wank too, but he didn't think Warren would mind, and he made sure to clean away all traces of his self-pleasure. He quickly dried himself off, changing back into his jeans, blue and black striped shirt, and loafers. He ran a comb through his damp hair, and grunted in satisfaction with his appearance. He took his check, scheduled Warren's next session, which was to be the same time two weeks from now, and left him with a friendly handshake, catching a bus close to the little coffee shop he and Luke had been to, for lunch with Victor. John was starting to like the little diner, and it was the perfect place to people watch and look at the rain steadily covering the city.

*****

John had called the office and spoke with Irene, reassuring her he was fine, and he would come in after his two o'clock to check in and do some paperwork before his he ended his work day. He also got a call from Victor, who told him he was not able to make lunch. One of his clients, a very wealthy socialite, had called and demanded him to do a last minute photoshoot. Her daughter was engaged to be married and needed engagement pictures for the newspapers and society websites. Victor was also being highly paid for this job, and he wasn't about to turn the money down. John readily understood, and the two rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

The waitress brought John his fish and chips. After his physically demanding visit with Warren he was starving and figured a heavier meal would last longer until dinner later. Not to mention, Luke raving about them when they were here yesterday.

John tore into his food, savoring the crisp texture and salty flavor. By the time he finished lunch and paid the bill, it was quarter after one. He was heading out of the coffee shop, pulling the hood of his red rain jacket over his head. The downpour had lessened to a steady drizzle, and it was breezy. 

He began to walk to the bus stop that would take him into London's high end garment district, where his next clients were waiting. They were antique dealers and newlyweds, recently returned to London from their honeymoon in Barbados, and friends of Irene's who were into light bondage. The husbands were thrilled to hear Irene had hired a male dom, and booked him for the soonest appointment John had.

*****

It was a little after four, and John was walking to catch the bus to Leather and Lace. His last session was a fun one. The two men met John at the door, each wearing T-shirts that said "Reporting For Duty." The newlyweds were enthusiastic, and loved it when John kept disciplining them for not staying silent during their "punishments." When John got out his bullhorn, the two had whipped themselves into such a frenzy John had trouble staying in character, and the three ended up in a heap on the bedroom floor, laughing and giggling like teenagers. John had been paid double for his time, and got another booking from the couple, who promised to behave on their next visit. 

John was nearly to the bus stop when he happened to glance across the street, and saw none other than Sherlock Holmes. He was in front of the Belstaff store, and he looked pissed. Then John saw another man behind him, the same one he saw on his date with Victor Saturday night.

John pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to Irene, saying he'd be at the office in a bit, he spotted someone he wanted to talk to first. Then he promptly crossed the street, and was soon standing in front of Sherlock, who had a mix of what could only be surprise, shock ---and lust --- on his handsomely chiseled face. The man with him was also surprised.

"Good afternoon Sherlock. Remember me?" John asked with a coy grin.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think John will say to Sherlock? How will Greg react? And Sherlock may or may not have nicked Mycroft's credit card to go on a shopping spree, which Mycroft definitely would have known about. ;)


	15. Close Encounters of the Sherlock Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is flustered by John, who has a surprising proposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, an update! I've been pretty much crashing after getting home from work and not wanting to do anything but relax. The weather's been very dreary, nothing but rain, rain and more rain, and I have mild SAD which doesn't help.

Sherlock froze at seeing John in front him, giving him a smile that wasn't exactly friendly. He was sure John had used that smile before when he was a Captain in the Army. It was both frightening him and turning him on. But he did what he knew best. He put on his mask of cold indifference.

"Yes, I remember you John Watson. What do you want?"

"Sherlock," came Greg's warning, but John waved his hand in the air dismissively. "It's okay. I've experienced my share of snotty prats." John turned to Sherlock. "Drop the attitude Mr. Holmes. I know you've been stalking me around town. By the way, you make a pretty decent looking woman."

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise and also shame. Greg's face broke out into a grin, but he held his laughter, waiting to see how his brother-in-law would get himself out of this one.

John looked up at Sherlock, still with that threatening smile on his face. "I'm waiting for an explanation. I've only met you twice now, and I already know how much you like to talk. So, talk."

“Well, I, uh…” Sherlock stammered, and his face turned crimson. He was not used to being at a loss for words. Greg was trying very hard not to bust out laughing, but figured he’d be nice and help Sherlock out.

“Mr. Watson, Greg Lestrade-Holmes, Sherlock’s brother-in-law. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he broke in, holding out his hand.

John shook his hand, but continued to gaze at Sherlock. “Nice to meet you. I think I’ve seen you before. The After Dark Ball at the Diogenes Club.”

Greg nodded, letting go of John’s hand. “Yes. My husband Mycroft runs the club.” He cleared his throat. “Look, I want to apologize for Sherlock’s antics---”

“They are not antics Grant. You know perfectly well I am on the case of these serial slayings, and John is a potential target due to his appearance,” Sherlock snapped, finding his voice and vocabulary again.

“Oh, so you following me around in ridiculous getups is your idea of surveillance?” John asked, half amused, half irritated.

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied haughtily.

“You do realize the victims of this mad killer aren’t escorts or sex workers, but clients? I wouldn’t be a target then,” John countered.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him,” Greg chimed in.

“So your ‘surveillance’ (John did air quotes) is actually stalking then.” He leaned into Sherlock, that sinister smile back on his face. “Is this your way of saying you’re attracted to me Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock was rendered silent again. “Right, I’ll take that as a yes. Like soldiers do you?”

Sherlock didn’t respond, but Greg did. With a cheeky grin, he turned to John. Sherlock had humiliated him so many times, he felt it was the detective’s turn to be embarrassed. It was childish but oh so satisfying.

“Sherlock loves soldiers, don’t you brother-in-law-of-mine,” he teased, borrowing Mycroft’s expression. “Especially blond soldiers.”

Sherlock shot his iciest glare at Greg but kept silent.

John was grinning deviously. “Well Sherlock, since you like blond soldiers so much, perhaps I can fit you in for a little private recruitment. I’ll get your number from Irene since you two are already acquainted.” He nodded at Greg. “Nice meeting you.”

“You too John. I hope to see more of you. I’m sure Sherlock will.”

“Well, I have to go back to the office. Irene is also worried about my safety. She’s very considerate, don’t you think?” John said, still grinning.

Sherlock snorted. Considerate was not the word he would use for that woman.

“Laters!” John called out, with a wave, and soon he was in the other direction heading towards the bus stop. Sherlock watched him go, pretending not to be aroused by the little swagger going on with his bum, which filled out nicely in his jeans.

“He’d be good for you Sherlock. Humble that arrogant arse of yours,” Greg remarked.

Sherlock had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but instead he said, “I’m going to get my session with The Captain.”

******

“You what?” Irene asked incredulously.

“I’m booking a session with Sherlock. Maybe if I’ll do he’ll stop following me around,” John explained. “Keep him in line for you.”

“Hmm,” Irene replied, becoming calmer as she thought about John’s idea. When she first met Sherlock after talking with him on the phone about being blackmailed, she wanted to dom him, but he’d refused outright, saying women were not his area when it came to anything sexual, and she was his client. Eventually they started a tentative friendship after he caught her blackmailer. But Sherlock had proved to be unpredictable and destructive, occasionally scaring potential clients away with his deductions, and not even knowing Irene had visited Mycroft and Greg could improve his behavior. But maybe John was the one that could.

Molly entered the flat. “Hi John,” she greeted him before going to Irene and giving her a kiss. “You’re not going to believe this, a father called wanting to book a session for his son’s 18th birthday! It’s his present to him. He’s some big executive for a pharmaceutical firm.”

“Ah, the kinky habits of the idle rich,” Irene said silkily. “So, are you going to be the one going out?”

Molly nodded. “The son’s always been interested in bondage, but wants someone who isn’t so, uh, hardcore. So I agreed to see him.”

“Guess who John’s taking on,” Irene said, a mischievous glint in her baby blue eyes.

Molly pursed her lips in thought for a few seconds, and then her eyes widened. “Oh God, not Leland “Limp Balls” Lomax. I thought we got rid of him!”

“Limp balls?” John inquired, an amused look on his face.

“We’ll talk about him later. Guess again love,” Irene replied.

Molly shook her head. “I can’t think of anybody else.”

“It’s Sherlock,” Irene said, smirking.

Molly’s eyes went wide again. “Sherlock! You’re fucking kidding me!” Molly rarely cursed, so for her to be profane, she had to be in complete shock.

“Yeah I know, after our discussions about him, but I saw him this afternoon and confronted him on his following me. The idea to have me dom him just slipped out,” John explained.

“What did he say?” Molly asked, still a little startled.

“It’s what he didn’t say,” John answered.

“Wow, you must have really made an impression on him. He’s hardly ever silent unless he’s in one of his epic strops,” Molly said. “So, when do you see him?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll need his phone number so I can set the appointment,” John responded.

“I’ll get it for you. Damn, I can’t wait to hear the details about this one. Be right back,” Molly chuckled to herself as she left the room.

Irene watched her lover exit with a playful leer, then turned to John. “This arrangement could be beneficial, since you told me part of his ‘stalking’ was to keep you safe from this maniac on the loose.”

“But he’s not targeting sex workers,” John gently argued.

“No, but that could change, and any muscular blond man is a target right now. I want to make sure you are safe, and if it means involving Sherlock, well, so be it. For as skinny as he is, he’s very fit and can defend himself quite spectacularly.”

John tried to picture Sherlock fighting, his tall, lean frame throwing punches and deflecting blows, dark curls bouncing around his face, those intense eyes focused and determined on outmaneuvering his opponent...he silently admitted it would be a very sexy sight. Sherlock was a good-looking man in an ethereal, almost alien way. But he had to keep it professional. And he wasn’t even sure the git could hold down a normal romantic relationship in the first place.

“You’re picturing him fighting right now, aren’t you? Wanting to see if he can beat The Captain?” Irene playfully teased, her red lips in a full smirk.

John blushed. “Let’s keep that between you and me. I admit Sherlock is attractive, but this is strictly business.”

“Hmm, we’ll see John, we’ll see,” Irene purred.

*****  
John smiled and laughed as Evie babbled on about her day at nursery. She had been super excited about the “fingpanning” they all did, and John knew she meant fingerpainting. There was still some minor evidence of it on her hands. A good scrubbing in the bath would take care of that.

His neighbor Mrs. Doyle had called him telling him she had leftover spaghetti and meatballs and John was welcome to it. He agreed, that meant not having to pick up dinner or throw something together right before bed.

As John and Evie approached the outside of the building where their flat was, a young man dressed in black jeans and a black hoodie stood across the street, watching them with extreme interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's made the first move, but they still have a way to go before it's full on Johnlock. And who could that mysterious figure in black be?


	16. John, You Better Beware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got through the East coast nor'easter, and two more snowstorms are expected this week but enough about weather, here's a short but good chapter. We're gradually building up to the climax of the murder mystery.

The knock at the door startled John for a moment, he wasn't expecting any visitors. Evie was in her highchair, feeding herself peas from a small plastic bowl. He made sure his daughter was secure and went to the door. "Who is it?" he called out, trying to sound firm and forceful.

"John, it's me Bryan. From the veterans' group."

A wave of relief washed over John as he unlocked the door. Bryan stood there dressed in black jeans and a black hoodie, and he sheepishly grinned at the older man. "I know I look like I'm doing covert ops, but it's laundry day, and these were the first clean clothes I grabbed."

John chuckled. "I was going to say you look just like The Master in The End of Time."

Confusion crossed over Bryan's face for a moment before he smiled. "Oh yeah---Doctor Who." He looked down at himself. "Yeah, I do."

John motioned for Bryan to come inside. "Come in. I'm in the middle of fixing dinner, peas and mash. Want any?"

Bryan shook his head. "Thanks, but I ate earlier."

John entered the kitchen and Evie squealed upon seeing her father. "Daddy here!" she said happily. Then she saw Bryan, and her little face turned apprehensive.

"Evie, this is a friend of Daddy's. Say hi to Bryan."

Evie stared at Bryan, her blue eyes wide. Bryan smiled at her. "Hi Evie," he greeted her. Then the toddler smiled back. "Hi," she said shyly, and returned to eating her peas.

"She's really cute John," Bryan said with a laugh.

"Takes after her mom," John said, scooping up some mashed potatoes onto a plate. “You don’t mind if I eat do you? Been a long day and I’m starving.”

“Not at all.”

“Care for a drink then?”

Bryan nodded. “Yeah, that’ll do.”

“Sit down, I’ll see what I have.” John opened his fridge. “I have bottled water, diet Coke, and a a few bottles of Guinness.”

“Guinness sounds great,” Bryan replied, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

John retrieved the beer and handed it to Bryan, who opened it up and took a satisfying sip. “Thanks mate,” he said, grinning at John.

Evie watched Bryan drink, and then loudly exclaimed “beer!” John nearly choked on his forkful of potatoes, and Bryan started laughing. “She’s off to a great start.”

“Jesus, I had no idea she knew what that was. I’ll have to start buying less of it,” John replied, shaking his head.

Bryan took another sip, set his bottle down on the table, and peered intently at John. “There’s something important I have to tell you.”

John put his fork down on his plate. “Sounds serious from the tone of your voice.”

Bryan nodded. “It’s about Sebastian and his boyfriend Jim.”

“Does it have anything to do with Sebastian’s reaction to me at the meeting on Monday?” John ventured. Sebastian had been a little apprehensive upon seeing him due to his resemblance to the man that attacked him years before.

“Yeah. Do you know anything about the attack?” Bryan asked.

“Luke filled me in on all the awful details after the meeting. It was horrible what happened to him.”

Bryan sat back in his chair. “I actually met Zach Quinn months before he attacked Sebastian. He was a real piece of work. Arrogant, sexually aggressive, thought he was God’s gift to men.” He suddenly looked at Evie. “John, if we can have this conversation later, I mean, might not be good with the baby here…”

John nodded. “Right, I agree. I know she’s only two, but they pick up so much at this age. Let me see if Mrs. Doyle across the hall can take for a bit.” He scooped Evie up into his arms, who started giggling. She waved bye at Bryan as he stepped out of the flat. He knocked on Mrs. Doyle’s door, and she answered in seconds. He explained a friend was over and they were discussing something he didn't want Evie to hear regarding a mutual acquaintance. The woman readily agreed to mind her. John thanked her and went back to his flat. He rejoined Bryan at the kitchen table.

“Okay, now what were you saying about Zach Quinn?”

“I was at a pub a a few months before his encounter with Sebastian. I was nursing a bad breakup with a girlfriend who I discovered was cheating on me with her uni professor. Anyway, I was by myself, sitting at the bar, and this good-looking blond guy came up to me, introduced himself as Zach Quinn and offered to buy me a drink. I could tell he was on the pull. Being straight, I politely turned him down, but he continued to insist he buy me a drink.”

“Couldn’t take no for an answer,” John interjected.

Bryan nodded. “Oh yeah. He started rubbing my back, telling me what a gorgeous thing I was, how much he liked fit soldiers. When I pushed him away and told him I was straight and didn’t swing that way, he got angry. He was offended I turned him down, told me he’d be better than any woman. He was really in my face. And even though I’m a soldier and consider myself tough, he really intimidated me. Luckily the bartender, who used to bounce in a club, intervened and kicked him out. Hours later, I was leaving and he was right there on me, blaming me for being kicked out, and he threatened physical harm.”

John let out a whistle. “Wow, what a creep.”

“You can say that again. Anyway, I decided to show him some self-defense tactics I learned over the years, and ended up bringing him to his knees, twisting his arm around his back. I told him if he ever confronted me again like that, he’d end up with more than a sore arm. I left him in the street and went home. I should have called the cops, but I didn’t. I did tell the guys at the meeting about him and warned that if they ever encountered him, to stay away.”

John shook his head sadly. “But Sebastian…”

Bryan sighed deeply. “Seb thought he was He-Man, that he could handle Quinn or any guy like that. He got his nickname of “Tiger” in the Army because he was a ferocious fighter. And he put up one hell of a fight with Quinn, he nearly eviscerated the bastard.  But Zach knew what he was doing. I have a feeling he did it before. There have to be more victims out there...ones that didn’t survive.”

Bryan took another sip of beer before continuing. “His boyfriend scares me though. Seb introduced him to us at one of the meetings. He has these dark, intense eyes, and this high sing-song voice...like something out of one of those horror movies. Seb looks at him like he’s the whole world, and I gotta give him credit---anyone else wouldn’t have stayed with Seb, be there for his breakdowns, take care of him...but behind those eyes, there’s rage too.”

Bryan leaned in towards John, a grim look on his face. “I think he’s the one killing those other guys, they all look like Zach...and I think Seb knows he’s doing it, perhaps egging him on.”

John’s eyes widened as he processed Bryan’s deduction. Psychologically it made sense, the boyfriend taking his fury out on those that looked like Quinn, to avenge his lover but at the same time, protect him in a warped way. So that he wouldn’t get hurt again.

He took a deep breath and looked hard at Bryan. “Have you been to the police about your theory?”

Bryan shook his head. “No. If Seb or Jim found out I went to the coppers, I can only imagine what they’d do to me. I wouldn’t be alive to tell my story. And, would they even believe me in the first place?”

“I understand you’re scared Bryan, but your theory has merit. But would Seb or Jim really go after you? You’re a victim of Quinn too. You share something in common with Seb. He and Jim might see you more as an ally. Besides, how would they automatically assume it was you who went to the police? Everyone in the veterans’ group knows what happened.”

Bryan was still uncertain. “I know, but all the other guys think Jim is great. I was the only one creeped out by him. And Seb said Jim was a real genius, very observant. It would be easy for him to suspect me.”

John placed his hand on top of Bryan’s in a show of support. “Would it help if I went to the police with you? There’s a man that is apparently working this case with them and he's pretty intelligent and keen. I think he’d really like to hear your story. If Jim is the killer, and Seb is enabling him, they need to be stopped before someone else dies. I know Seb’s your friend, but if he’s an accomplice in these crimes, he has to be found culpable.”

Bryan shut his eyes, his head bobbing back and forth. “I know, I know. I just don’t want to rat out my friend. He’s been through so much. He’s a victim too. But you’re right John. We’ve got to go to the police.” He opened his eyes and stared grimly at John. “You need to be careful too. Even more than me. You look a lot like Quinn. And if Seb feels threatened by you, Jim will go after you. Count on it.”

John laughed darkly. “You’re not the first person to say that to me.”

“Take it seriously then,” Bryan warned. “You better beware John.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better get home. I’ll see you next Monday at the meeting?”

John nodded. “Yeah. If I bail out, Sebastian may suspect something’s up.”

“I’m sure he would. When should we go to the police?” Bryan asked nervously.

“Before we go to the police, we should first talk to my special source,” John answered.

“Who’s that?” Bryan inquired.

“A very interesting man by the name of Sherlock Holmes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back next time to see how Sherlock's meeting with John and Bryan goes...I have a feeling John will need to use some "heavy persuasion" to get Sherlock to investigate...


	17. We're Off To See the Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Bryan visit Sherlock and things turn a little rocky, but John knows just how to handle the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter posted! The last two weeks have been rough thanks to an upper respiratory infection and a bought of laryngitis paired with a cough that's taking its sweet time to go away. But it's done, so enjoy!

 

John entered the Leather & Lace office, Bryan following him. The younger vet looked around in amazement. “I still can’t believe you do this for a living,” he said. 

John grinned. “Yep, and I love it.”

Molly was sitting at the reception desk, a frown on her pretty face. John noticed it and stepped up towards her. “Hi Molly. Anything wrong?”

Molly sighed, exasperated. “Janine called. She quit.”

John frowned. “Isn’t she supposed to give you two weeks’ notice?”

“Yes, that would be the considerate thing to do, but this is Janine we’re talking about,” Molly replied, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

“I thought she liked working here?” John asked.

“She didn’t quit because she no longer liked the job. She doesn’t want to show her face around here again after Billy found out she propositioned Sherlock, and he dumped her.”

John’s eyes widened in surprise. “Janine? Sherlock?”

Molly smiled cheekily. “Oh yeah. Janine’s had the hots for him from the first time she saw him. She didn’t care that he was gay. She claimed she turned three men straight and thought Sherlock could be number four. No matter how many times he told her ‘women were not his area’, she kept lusting after him like a fool.”

John suddenly turned to Bryan, who was watching the conversation with an amused grin. “Uh, Molly, this is my friend Bryan Nash.”

“Hi,” Bryan said quietly, still taking everything in.

“We’re on our way to see Sherlock actually, about these murders,” John explained.

Molly grew apprehensive, and she started to feel dread creep through her skin. “Oh God John, did something happen last night---”

John shook his head vehemently. “No, I’m fine. But Bryan has a possible lead and we want to see Sherlock about it, because he’s assisting the police with the case.”

Molly snorted. “Thanks to Greg. He lets Sherlock help the Yard because it keeps him clean and out of trouble if you know what I mean.”

John chuckled. “I do. Anyway, do you have Sherlock’s address and phone number? I’ll need it if I’m going to take him on as a client.”

“Sure, let me do a few clicks on this computer and I’ll print it out. I still can’t believe you’re going to be domming him. I’d love to be a fly on the wall at the first session.”

“I’ll tell you all the gruesome details,” John promised with a wink.

A few moments later, Molly handed John Sherlock’s address which read 221 B Baker Street, along with his phone number. It wasn’t the fanciest section of London, but Molly told John Sherlock was deep in the green. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to afford those posh bespoke suits and that Belstaff he wears no matter if it’s cold or hot out.”

John snorted. “Not to mention all his lovely disguises.” He kissed Molly on the cheek. “Thanks Molly, you’re a doll.” He turned to Bryan. “Ready to go?”

Bryan nodded and drew a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

John placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“Please be careful you two,” Molly warned.

“We will. I’ll check in with you and Irene later,” John promised. He and Bryan bid their goodbyes and the left the office, leaving Molly back to her clerical duties. She would have to ask Irene to put the word out there was a job opening, and she wasn’t looking forward to her lover’s reaction.

*****

_ 10:45 Mr. Holmes? This is John Watson. _

_ 10:48 Hello John, And it’s Sherlock please. Mr. Holmes is my insufferable older brother. _

_ 10:49. Right. Well, hello Sherlock. _

_ 10:50 I’m available all next week in the evenings between four and six. You can do what you want, I’m amenable. _

_ 10:51 What? Oh wait...no, I’m not setting up your session yet. It’s a criminal matter. About the murders. _

_ 10:52 So you changed your mind about my surveillance. I knew you’d come to your senses eventually. _

_ 10:54 This isn’t about your stalking Sherlock, and that’s what it is, don’t call it anything else. Anyway, I have a friend with me that has a theory about who’s doing the killings and we want to run it by you first before we go to the police. _

_ 10:56 Theories don’t usually pan out unless I come up with them. _

_ 10:58 Right then. We’ll just go see Greg Lestrade and see what he thinks. Goodbye Sherlock. _

_ 10:59. No! _

_ 11:00 What I mean is, it’s better if you come see me. My brother-in-law will just sit on his arse in his office stuffing himself with pastries and maybe check out your theory after getting one of his officers to do it. You’re much better off with me. _

_ 11:03 So, can we come to your flat or not? _

_ 11:04. Of course John. _

_ 11:05. Great. We’ll be there in ten minutes. And no deducing my friend. He’s nervous enough as it is. _

*****

Sherlock’s flat was cluttered, and a bit messy, but John liked it a lot. Bryan gawked at the skull on the mantle, but got over it quickly.

“Oh Sherlock, the mess you’ve made,” his landlady, Mrs. Hudson, said to herself after letting the two men into the flat.

Sherlock sauntered in from the living room, wearing a tan dressing gown over navy silk pajamas. His dark curls had been expertly tamed. John couldn’t help but think how posh he looked even in loungewear, and he also couldn’t help admiring his long, elegant bare feet.

“Hello John,” he greeted him. He gazed at Bryan with intense blue-green eyes. “And this is…”

“Bryan Nash. Thanks for coming to see us sir,” Bryan replied, holding out his hand.

Sherlock shook it. “You’re a veteran too,” he began before John cut him off.

“No deducing Sherlock. Or we walk out of here, and I won’t take you on as a client. Got it?” he demanded in his Captain Watson voice.

Sherlock’s eyes glazed over in a bout of lust for a few seconds at hearing John’s tone, his military kink beginning to undermine his control, but he shut his eyes, retreated to his mind palace for just a few seconds, and then opened his eyes again, his face now a firm mask. “Of course John. Now why don’t both of you take a seat and your friend can tell me what he thinks he knows about these murders.”

John and Bryan exchanged glances, astonished at Sherlock’s quick change in attitude. “Maybe this was a bad idea John,” Bryan said. “I don’t think he’ll believe what I have to say. We’re probably better off going to the police, you know actual professionals, not some guy in pajamas who has a skull on a mantle.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Bryan. “I am a professional, and much better than those idiots we have for a police force. Sit down and tell me what you know, and I will determine if it’s important or not.”

“Come on Bryan, let’s do what the posh git says and get this over with,” John told his friend.

Sherlock motioned over to the sitting area, where a couch and two armchairs were arranged to look like a therapist’s office. Well that’s how it looked to John anyway.

John sat in a red armchair, Bryan took the couch, and Sherlock flopped down in his black chair. He elegantly crossed his long legs and folded his hands in his lap. “Now Bryan, start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”

Bryan took a big swallow, trying to calm himself, and began to tell Sherlock what he told John. His suspicion about Sebastian’s boyfriend Jim Moriarty being the killer, and why, and his run-in with Zach Quinn shortly before Sebastian’s attack.  John was proud of his friend for deciding to come forward and he noticed Bryan getting more and more confident as he told his story.

Sherlock steepled his hands under his chin, absorbing Bryan’s words. What the vet said made sense. An interesting case of transference, with the victim’s lover, not the victim himself, seeking revenge on lookalikes of the man that maimed his partner.  “Fascinating,” he mused.

“What?” John said, confused.

“Bryan’s theory. It’s very fascinating.”

John frowned at Sherlock. “There’s nothing fascinating about a man being paralyzed by a psychopath and his boyfriend murdering innocent men simply because they look like the attacker.”

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. “I meant psychologically John. Honestly, if this is how you’re going to be, it’s probably better that you not come back for a session----”

John jumped up, glaring at Sherlock. “We’re done here. I suggested Bryan come and tell you his story, hoping you’d be able to investigate further, and so far all you’ve done is say all this nastiness is fun and be dismissive towards us. This was a fucking waste of time. Come on Bryan let’s go down to the Yard and find someone who will actually follow up---”

“No, wait John. I’m....sorry. Please let me look into this for you. Those morons at the Yard will just mess it up,” Sherlock pleaded. “I’m your best hope for cracking this case.” He stared into John’s dark eyes, as if mentally trying to persuade him to change his mind. And pleading was something Sherlock hardly did, but he was in danger of screwing things up with the handsome soldier and he definitely wanted to see John again.

John’s face softened a bit. “Okay, Sherlock okay. We’ll let you do your investigation. If Jim is the one doing these killings, we’ve got to get him off the streets as soon as possible.”

“Thank you John. Now about our session---”

“I thought you didn’t want me to come back for that,” John interjected, peering sharply at Sherlock.

The lanky detective tried to gather his thoughts together, but John continued. “I’ll give you a call later today and offer some times. But you better be prepared to take some strict orders. I have a feeling you’re going to be more stubborn than the other privates I’ve had to deal with. You’re going to need more discipline soldier.”

Sherlock would have kneeled right then and there if John’s friend wasn’t in the room.

*****

John and Bryan had parted ways and John was sitting inside the coffee shop, which had become his new favorite lunch hangout, in a booth across from Victor, and telling him about his visit with Sherlock. Victor was surprised John was taking him on as a client. Not to mention a little jealous.

“I wish you were showing me your Captain Watson persona,” Victor said, pouting.

John licked his lips and winked at Victor. “I can give you a private tour of duty but I’ll have to see when my neighbor is available to watch Evie.”

“Yes sir!” Victor replied, with a playful salute. He took a sip of his tea and sat back in the booth. “So, you think Sherlock can solve this case?”

“He thinks he can. And maybe with him focusing his time on catching the killer, that means less time stalking me,” John explained.

Victor chuckled. “Aren’t you clever.”

John grinned. “I have my moments. But seriously, we need this lunatic off the streets.”

“What if it really is the boyfriend of the guy in your veterans’ group? He could go after you,” Victor warned.

John nodded thoughtfully. “All the more reason for Sherlock to check him out.”

“Before the killer checks you out,” Victor mused darkly.

John didn’t respond, he just stared down into his vegetable soup, praying what Victor just said wouldn’t turn out to become true.

*****

I’m going to kill that wench,” Irene seethed.

Molly shook her head and continued to massage her lover’s bare shoulders as the two lay on their bed. After Molly had told her the bad news about Janine’s abrupt decision to quit, she closed the office and decided the two needed some “alone time.”

“Just relax love. It’ll be okay. I’ll call my friend Robyn and see if she wants to fill in for a while. She just got laid off from her receptionist job at Soleil Spa and is looking for another place to work.”

Irene let out a deep breath and focused on Molly’s soft hands working deep into her muscles. “Mmm, that feels amazing. And yes, call Robyn. We’ll need someone who can learn the ropes pretty quickly.”

“At least we don’t have to worry about her flirting with Sherlock. She’s been with her partner Sylvia for twelve years and they’re getting married later this summer.”

Molly lowered her hands, moving to Irene’s creamy back, kneading it gently. “You’re so tight Reenie,” she murmured, using a nickname she’s only allowed to say in private.

“It’s stress. It comes with being a business owner. Especially one that has a popular employee who looks like the victims of a psychotic serial killer.”

“Don’t think about that now. Just focus on my hands and how they feel on your skin and your muscles,” Molly said softly, now beginning to work on Irene’s lovely bum. She leaned down and placed a kiss on her right buttcheek. Irene giggled.

Molly pressed a kiss to the left buttcheek and continued her massage, working her way down Irene’s shapely legs and eventually ending at her feet. “Oh that feels so good darling,” Irene purred. “When you’re done, let me return the favor.”

“I’d like that,” Molly replied, caressing Irene’s left foot. “You do give great massages.”

“There’s also something else I give that’s really great,” Irene said huskily, and before Molly could react, Irene turned around, pushed Molly down onto the bed and began smothering her with smoldering kisses.

*****

Sherlock stared at his phone for the last fifteen minutes. He didn’t want to call his brother, but he knew Mycroft was the best one to look into this Jim Moriarty. And he knew Mycroft would insist he return the favor by doing something for him. Sherlock dreaded it, but if he wanted to please John and be dommed by the hot military man, he’d have to endure whatever Mycroft wanted him to do.

He picked up the phone and dialed his brother. Mycroft picked up after two rings. “Hello brother-of-mine. What do you need?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and fought back a retort. “Hello Mycroft. What I need is a background check on a Jim Moriarty.”

“And may I ask why you need this background check?” Mycroft haughtily inquired.

Sherlock sighed loudly. “It’s part of the case I’m working on involving the murdered blond men. I received a lead today pointing me in the direction of this Moriarty, and I know you can get me the information I need.”

There was silence for a few seconds. “Very well little brother, I will indulge this request. But you owe me.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

“Mummy is throwing a charity gala this weekend at the manor. I expect you to be there at seven sharp, dressed to the nines and sober as a widow in church on Sunday. You can bring a guest if you wish, but I insist they not be from your...usual pool of casual partners.”

_ John, _ Sherlock thought. _ I’ll bring John. He’s the only one that will help make the evening less of a bore than it will already be. _

  
“I’ll be there with bells on Mycroft,” Sherlock replied, smirking and trying to picture John in an Army dress uniform.

“I’ll have your information to you within the next 48 hours via email. Goodbye brother.”

Mycroft hung up, and Sherlock sat back on the couch, closing his eyes, his mind filling up with images of Captain Watson. 

  
  
  
  



	18. Invited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John accepts an invite from Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while! After a month of suffering a cough and respiratory infection, it's finally gone. And then I sold my house to a group of flippers that pay cash for homes! I have three weeks to pack up and relocate! So I'm looking for an apartment now. So it's been crazy. I'll update when I can. For now, enjoy this short chapter.

Tuesday evening found John caring for a sick Evie. The little girl had complained to her nursery teacher her “tummy feeling bad,” and had a bout of diarrhea. After that, she said she was better and went right back to playing. When John arrived to pick her up an hour later, the teacher told him about what happened, and since they would be closing soon, she felt she didn’t have to call him to get her early. John wasn’t worried, since she was her cheerful and babbling self. 

An hour later, Evie had complained again about her tummy, then promptly vomited all over herself and John’s loafers. John cleaned her up, scrubbed and sanitized his shoes, cleaned up a pile of sick after Evie had another bout of vomiting (he got her back to the tub just in time). Luckily there was no fever. John diagnosed her as having a typical bout of gastroenteritis, several other little ones at the nursery had gotten sick with it too over the last two weeks. He decided he would keep her home tomorrow, and would call out from work and reschedule his appointments. 

John gave Evie a small amount of diet gingerale to settle her stomach. Mrs. Doyle had given it to him. She bought the diet by mistake and John agreed to take it. He wasn’t a big soda drinker, but he did like the taste of gingerale from time to time, and he was glad he had it tonight. 

Evie wanted her daddy with her so John cuddled up with her on the couch, television tuned to a channel for toddlers that played soothing music to cute pictures of animals and outdoor scenes. A music box version of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star was on, set to images of smiling stars floating around a grinning moon. 

John hummed the tune softly into Evie’s blonde curls, and it wasn’t long before she was asleep, her little chest rising and falling gently against John’s. He smiled, pressed a kiss into her hair, and settled her down in her crib, covering her up with her blanket. Sitting on her dresser next to the crib was a tiny stuffed hedgehog. John picked it up and hugged it. Mary’s mother had bought it as one of their shower gifts, because she told John he reminded her of the animal, so it was like Daddy would be watching over her when she slept. He fought back a tear as he thought of Mary, wondering what it would be like if she were here to help take care of her sick daughter.

A buzz from his pocket interrupted his lamenting and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was a text. John’s blue eyes widened as he read the message.

_How do you feel about boring parties with boring and annoying uber-rich guests? -SH_

John pursed his lips as he thought about how to reply to Sherlock. A few seconds later he typed _Doesn’t sound boring to me. In my short experience I’ve discovered the uber-rich can be far from boring. Are you inviting me to a party?_

_Maybe,_ was Sherlock’s reply.

John rolled his eyes and typed back. _There’s no maybe here Sherlock. You’re either inviting me or you aren’t._

_All right John yes, I’m inviting you. It’s one of Mummy’s tedious charity events and it’s held at the family estate this Saturday. My brother will send a car to pick you up. It starts at seven. You do have formal wear?_

John laughed and shook his head. Oh he had formal wear. His Army dress uniform, currently stored in a wardrobe bag in his closet. He never knew when he had to break it out. He even thought about wearing it to one of his sessions. 

_Yes I have formal wear. Don’t worry, I’ll look presentable for your Mummy._

_So this means you’ll go with me?_

_As long as I can get a sitter for Evie, I’ll go. Can’t pass up an opportunity for free food and drink. Maybe I can get some new clients. ;)_

_John, are you winking at me?_

;)

_Do that again and I’ll rescind my offer._

:P

_What is that supposed to be?_

_Seriously, you don’t know?_

_No. I don’t use whatever those things are. They look immature._

_It’s a tongue. I’m sticking out my tongue at you. And those things are called emoticons. Seriously Sherlock, you’re supposed to be a genius and you don’t know what emoticons are?_

_I must have deleted them?_

_Deleted?_

_Yes John, deleted. From my mind._

_Wow, must be one hell of a mind._

_Thank you John. I’ll see you Saturday night?_

_Yeah, see you then._

_Goodnight John._

_Goodnight Sherlock._

John looked at his phone, then at the hedgehog. “Holy hell, what have I gotten myself into?” 

*****

Sherlock smirked at his phone. He had just roped John into coming to Mummy’s party, now he wouldn’t be so bored, not with a handsome ex-soldier and now dom at his side. And he could keep him safe from Moriarty, if he indeed was the killer. Speaking of Moriarty, he hoped Mycroft was working on getting him the goods on the suspected serial killer and not sitting on his rear stuffing himself with sweets.

His phone rang, and he saw it was Greg. Sighing overdramatically, he answered the call. “Yes Greg.”

“Well, I’m happy to talk to you too,” Greg playfully retorted.

“This better be worthwhile,” Sherlock said bitingly.

“Would you consider a James Ciaran Moriarty worthwhile?” Greg asked teasingly.

“Key-wran, not see-ar-an,” Sherlock soberly replied.

“What?”

"Moriarty’s middle name. It’s pronounced key-wran.”

“Whatever Sherlock, the saying of his middle name isn’t important right now. Apparently you asked Myc to dig some dirt up on him,” Greg said.

“I did. Wow, he’s faster than I thought he would be,” Sherlock mused.

“Better pay me that compliment brother-in-law. Myc didn’t need to do anything. The Yard already had a file on him.”

Sherlock was surprised. “Really? What did he do?”

“You’ve heard of the Zach Quinn case?” Greg asked.

“Not until today,” Sherlock answered. “John Watson came to see me today along with a friend of his. The friend suspects Moriarty is our serial killer and asked me to look into it.”

There was a beat of silence before Greg responded. “Eerie timing,” he remarked.

“More like perfect timing,” Sherlock commented dryly.

“Why does Mr. Watson’s friend suspect Moriarty? He know something?”

It’s a hunch, and a very good one if you know your abnormal psychology.”

“The victims all resemble Zach Quinn. You suspect Moriarty is avenging the attack on his boyfriend by killing lookalikes. Transference. Yes Sherlock, I had to take abnormal psych at uni, required for criminal justice. Had to get into the mind of a killer, wonder why they act the way they do.”

“Color me impressed,” Sherlock noted.

Greg snorted. “I’m not that much of an idiot as you think. Anyway, what I was about to tell you was Moriarty made a complaint against Zach Quinn’s parents and brother a few months after Quinn committed suicide. Moriarty claimed they were harassing him and his boyfriend, blaming them for Quinn’s death, sending threatening letters and phone calls. We sent officers out to the homes of the parents and the sibling. They denied it at first, but after they were shown the letters Moriarty gave us for evidence, all three confessed. They were charged with harassment and paid a fine. A few weeks later, all three moved out of London to parts unknown. We closed the case. Moriarty never contacted us again. But Sherlock, we can’t search his residence without a warrant. I don’t even know if a judge will grant me one. The Moriarty’s are a prominent family. And I know James and his family will be at Violet’s Saturday for the charity ball. We’ve got to be really careful about this.”

Sherlock’s mind sparked like fireworks. He could observe the suspect and see how he reacts to John. And if he did go after John, Sherlock and Greg would be there to catch him. He no longer dreaded going to Mummy’s.

“I agree Greg. We don’t want to rouse suspicion.”

Greg let out a chuffed sound. “I can’t believe it. Sherlock Holmes is cooperating with me. Break out the cigars and champagne.”

“Prat,” Sherlock said, but with no heat in his voice. “Actually, a glass of bubbly and a cigarette would feel really good right now.”  
Greg chuckled. “Go on then, puff and drink away. But just this once. If Myc ever found out I allowed you to smoke, he’d have my hide, and not in the way I want.”

Sherlock groaned. “Ugh, you had to ruin it with another image of you and my brother getting it off.”

Greg only laughed. “I’ll talk to you later. Enjoy your cancer stick.”

Sherlock hung up the phone, set it on the coffee table, and headed towards his bedroom where a black box sat under the bed, filled with the nicotine he craved. He wasn’t going to let an opportunity pass him by where Greg gave him permission to enjoy at least one drug. So far, this evening was shaping up to be a pleasant one. 

*****

“Come to bed Gregory,” Mycroft silkily purred from their room. 

“In a minute love,” Greg promised. He was online, re-researching the Zach Quinn case. It had been a nasty one. The man hid his sadistic side very well, and only after Sebastian Moran had nearly died, and Quinn buried six feet under, did others he’d hurt come forward with their horror stories about being brutalized by the man. They were frightened out of their wits. Quinn had taken their ID cards and threatened to come back and kill them if they went to the cops.

Jim Moriarty had been vocal in expressing his fury at what happened to Sebastian. The escort service that Quinn used which set him up with Sebastian did a thorough background check and nothing came up, because no one knew of his past crimes. But they knew they might get sued, so they paid out a handsome settlement to Sebastian. 

Greg sighed and shook his head. The sex trade was a nasty business. He always felt if it could be legalized and regulated, monsters like Quinn might be able to be weeded out. But it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, so escorts, prostitutes, anyone working in the industry was a target for sexual deviants. And people seeking some kind of sexual release were also targets. Was Jim Moriarty the one killing off blond male johns? In hindsight it seemed believable and credible. But hindsight wasn’t going to get him a search warrant. He’d have to let this one play out unless Moriarty or whoever the murderer was made a mistake, and so far, there were none.

Greg shut off his laptop and began unbuttoning his shirt, heading for the bedroom. It was time to stop thinking about grisly murders and sex workers, and time to show his husband how much he loved him.

*****

Jim grinned as he lovingly gazed at Sebastian, who was lying in bed, singing along to a song he was listening to on his phone. His eyes were closed, and he was moving his head back and forth. Jim couldn’t hear the song because his boyfriend had his earbuds in, but he was sure it was a Joy Division song. They were one of Sebastian’s favorite groups.

Sebastian opened his eyes and upon seeing Jim, blushed and turned his face away. “You always seem to catch me when I’m listening to my music Jimmy. You know how much I get lost in it.”

Jim knelt down beside his mate and kissed the tip of his nose. “I love seeing you like this Sebby, like you don’t have a care in the world.”

Sebastian removed his earbuds and smiled. “I’m feeling good tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear that babe. Because I found another one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciaran means little dark one. It definitely fits Moriarty, and Andrew Scott. I have no idea what his canon middle name is or if he was given one. I've also heard it pronounced "ky-ran" too but the Irish name website I visited uses "key-wran." I'm sure someone will tell me the correct one in the comments. ;)


End file.
